THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

Estate  of 
Jean  Howard  McDuf fie 


THE  ROMANY  RYE 

(-857) 


FIRST  EDITION,  March,  1900. 
Second  Impression,  June,  1903. 


THE    ROMANY    RYE 


A  SEQUEL  TO  "LAVENGRO" 


BY   GEORGE    BORROW 


East  Dereham. 


A  NEW  EDITION 


CONTAfNING    THE    UNALTERED    TEXT    OF    THE 

ISSUE,    WITH    NOTES,    ETC.,    BY    THE    AUTHOK    Of 
"  THE    LIFE    OF    GEORGE    BORROW" 


NEW  YORK 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


THE    ROMANY    RYE 


A  SEQUEL  TO  "LAVENGRO" 


BY   GEORGE    BORROW 


A  NEW  EDITION 

CONTAINING    THE    UNALTERED    TEXT    OF    THE    ORIGINAL 

CSSUE,    WITH    NOTES,    ETC.,    BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF 

"  THE    LIFE    OF    GEORGE    BORROW " 


NEW  YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
1905 


[ORIGINAL  TITLE  PAGE.] 


THE 


ROMANY       RYE; 


A  SEQUEL  TO  "LAVENGRO.1 


BY    GEOKGE  ;BOKKOW, 

AUTHOR  OP 
'THE  BIBLE   IN   SPAIN,"    "THE  GYPSIES  OF  SPAIN,"    ETC. 


"  Fear  God,  and  take  your  own  part." 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES— VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

JOHN   MUBBAY,   ALBEMABLE   STBEET. 
1857. 


Add  to 
GIFT 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

(1857.) 

IT  having  been  frequently  stated  in  print  that  the  book 
called  Lavengro  was  got  up  expressly  against  the  popish 
agitation  in  the  years  1850-51,  the  author  takes  this  oppor- 
tunity of  saying  that  the  principal  part  of  that  book  was 
written  in  the  year  '43,  that  the  whole  of  it  was  completed 
before  the  termination  of  the  year  '46,  and  that  it  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  publisher  in  the  year  '4&1  And  here  he 
cannot  forbear  observing,  that  it  was  the  duty  of  that 
publisher  to  have  rebutted  a  statement  which  he  knew  to 
be  a  calumny  ;  and  also  to  have  set  the  public  right  on 
another  point  dealt  with  in  the  Appendix  to  the  present 
work,  more  especially  as  he  was  the  proprietor  of  a  Review 
enjoying,  however  undeservedly,  a  certain  sale  and  repu- 
tation. 

But  take  your  own  part,  boy  ! 
For  if  you  don't,  no  one  will  take  it  for  you. 

With  respect  to  Lavengro,  the  author  feels  that  he  has 
no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  In  writing  that  book  he 
did  his  duty,  by  pointing  out  to  his  country-people  the 
nonsense  which,  to  the  greater  part  of  them,  is  as  the  breath 
of  their  nostrils,  and  which,  if  indulged  in,  as  it  probably 
will  be,  to  the  same  extent  as  hitherto,  will,  within  a  very 
few  years,  bring  the  land  which  he  most  loves  beneath  a 
foreign  yoke  —  he  does  not  here  allude  to  the  yoke  of 
Rome. 

Instead  of  being  ashamed,  has  he  not  rather  cause  to 
be  proud  of  a  book  which  has  had  the  honour  of  being 
rancorously  abused  and  execrated  by  the  very  people  of 
whom  the  country  has  least  reason  to  be  proud  ?  2 


.,   "49"- 

zMS.t  "execrated  by  every  unmanly  scoundrel,  every  sycophantic  lacquey, 
and  every  political  and  religious  renegade  in  Britain  ". 


163 


"  One  day  Cogia  Efendy  went  to  a  bridal  festival.  The  masters  of  the  feast, 
observing  his  old  and  coarse  apparel,  paid  him  no  consideration  whatever.  The 
Cogia  saw  that  he  had  no  chance  of  notice  ;  so  going  out,  he  hurried  to  his  house, 
and,  putting  on  a  splendid  pelisse,  returned  to  the  place  of  festival.  No  sooner 
did  he  enter  the  door  than  the  masters  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  saying,  '  Wel- 
come, Cogia  Efendy,'  with  all  imaginable  honour  and  reverence,  placed  him  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  and  said,  '  Please  to  eat,  Lord  Cogia  '.  Forthwith  the 
Cogia,  taking  hold  of  one  of  the  furs  of  his  pelisse,  said,  '  Welcome  my  pelisse  ; 
please  to  eat,  my  lord '.  The  masters  looking  at  the  Cogia  with  great  surprise, 
said,  'What  are  you  about?'  Whereupon  the  Cogia  replied,  "As  it  is  quite 
evident  that  all  the  honour  paid,  is  paid  to  my  pelisse,  I  think  it  ought  to  have 
some  food  too  '."—PLEASANTRIES  OF  THE  COGIA  NASR  EDDIN  EFENDI. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

The  Making  of  the  Linch-pin— The  Sound  Sleeper— Breakfast— The   Pos- 
tillion's Departure I 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Man  in  Black— The  Emperor  of  Germany — Nepotism — Donna  Olympia 

—Omnipotence — Camillo  Astalli— The  Five  Propositions        ...        5 


CHAPTER  III. 

Necessity   of    Religion — The  Great    Indian    One— Image- worship  — Shakes- 
peare- The  Fat  Answer— Krishna— Amen 9 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Proposal— The  Scotch  Novel— Latitude — Miracles — Pestilent  Heretics 

—Old  Eraser— Wonderful  Texts— No  Armenian     .        .  16 


CHAPTER  V. 
Fresh  Arrivals— Pitching  the  Tent — Certificated  Wife — High-flying  Notions      28 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Promised  Visit — Roman  Fashion— Wizard  and  Witch — Catching  at 
Words— The  Two  Females — Dressing  of  Hair — The  New  Roads — 
Belle's  Altered  Appearance — Herself  Again  .»...•  32 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Festival — The  Gypsy   Song — Piramus  of    Rome — The    Scotchman — 

Gypsy  Names 40 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

The  Church— The  Aristocratical  Pew — Days  of  Yore— The  Clergyman — "  In 

what  would  a  Man  be  Profited?" 48 


CHAPTER  IX 
Return  from  Church— The  Cuckoo  and  Gypsy— Spiritual  Discourse     .        .      53 

CHAPTER  X. 

Sunday  Evening — Ursula— Action  at  Law — Meridiana—  Married  Already     .      60 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Ursula's  Tale— The  Patteran— The  Deep  Water— Second  Husband      .        .      72 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Dingle  at  Night— The  Two  Sides  of  the  Question— Roman  Females — 

Filling  the  Kettle— The  Dream— The  Tall  Figure 78 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Visit  to  the  Landlord — His  Mortifications — Hunter  and  his  Clan— Resolution      86 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Preparations  for  the  Fair—The  Last  Lesson— The  Verb  Siriel     ...      89 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Dawn  of  Day— The  Last  Farewell — Departure  for  the  Fair— The  Fine 

Horse— Return  to  the  Dingle— No  Isopel 95 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Gloomy   Forebodings— The   Postman's    Mother— The   Letter— Bears    and 

Barons— The  Best  of  Advice 99 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Public-house— Landlord  on  His  Legs  Again— A  Blow  in  Season— The 

Way  of  the  World— The  Grateful  Mind— The  Horse's  Neigh         .        .     106 


CONTENTS.  xi 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGE 

Mr.   Petulengro's  Device — The   Leathern    Purse— Consent   to   Purchase   a 

Horse .         .         .     113 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Trying  the  Horse— The  Feats  of  Tawno— Man  with  the  Red  Waistcoat- 
Disposal  of  Property 117 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Farewell  to  the  Romans— The  Landlord  and  his  Niece— Set  out  as  a  Tra- 
veller .     132 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

An  Adventure  on  the  Roads — The  Six  Flint  Stones — A  Rural  Scene — Mead 

—The  Old  Man  and  his  Bees 124 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Singular  Noise— Sleeping  in  a  Meadow— The  Book— Cure  for  Wakeful- 
ness — Literary  Tea  Party — Poor  Byron 131 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Drivers  and  Front   Outside    Passengers — Fatigue    of    Body  and   Mind — 

Unexpected  Greeting — My  Inn — The  Governor — Engagement     .         .     136 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

An  Inn  of  Times  gone  by — A  First-rate  Publican — Hay  and  Corn — Old- 
fashioned  Ostler — Highwaymen— Mounted  Police — Grooming       .         .     140 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
Stable  Hartshorn — How  to  Manage  a  Horse  on  a  Journey —Your  Best  Friend     145 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  Stage-coachmen  of  England— A  Bully  Served  Out — Broughton's  Guard 

—The  Brazen  Head 150 


xii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

PAGE 

Francis  Ardry — His  Misfortunes — Dog  and  Lion  Fight— Great  Men  of  the 

World 158 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Mr.    Platitude  and  the  Man  in  Black— The  Postillion's  Adventures— The 

Lone  House — A  Goodly  Assemblage 163 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Deliberations  with  Self — Resolution — Invitation  to  Dinner — The  Commercial 

Traveller— The  Landlord's  Offer— The  Comet  Wine       .        .        .        .170 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Triumphal  Departure— No  Season  like  Youth — Extreme  Old  Age— Beautiful 

England— The  Ratcatcher— A  Misadventure 175 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Novel  Situation — The  Elderly  Individual — The  Surgeon— A  Kind  Offer — 

Chimerical  Ideas — Strange  Dream 179 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  Morning  after  a  Fall— The  Teapot— Unpretending  Hospitality— The 

Chinese  Student 185 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Convalescence — The    Surgeon's    Bill— Letter   of    Recommendation— Com- 
mencement of  the  Old  Man's  History 191 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ITie  Old  Man's  Story  continued— Misery  in  the  Head— The  Strange  Marks 

—Tea-dealer  from  London— Difficulties  of  the  Chinese  Language  .        .     201 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
The  Leave-taking— Spirit  of  the  Hearth— What's  o'Clock     ....    209 


CONTENTS.  xiii 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

PAGE 

Arrival  at  Horncastle— The  Inn  and  Ostlers — The  Garret — The  Figure  of  a 

Man  with  a  Candle 211 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
Horncastle  Fair 214 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
High  Dutch 221 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
The  Hungarian 223 

CHAPTER  XL. 
The  Horncastle  Welcome — Tzernebock  and  Bielebock 238 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  Jockey's  Tale— Thieves'  Latin— Liberties  with  Coin— The  Smasher  in 

Prison— Old  Fulcher — Every  one  has  his  Gift— Fashion  of  the  English    .     244 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

A  Short-tempered  Person— Gravitation — The  Best  Endowment — Mary 
Fulcher — Fair  Dealing — Horse-witchery—Darius  and  his  Groom — The 
Jockey's  Tricks— The  Two  Characters — The  Jockey's  Song  .  .  .  258 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


The  Church 


273 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 
An  Old  Acquaintance     ...........     276 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
Murtagh's  Tale ,        ,        „  28 


xiv  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

PAGE 

Murtagh's  Story  continued — The  Priest,   Exorcist,  and  Thimble-engro — 

How  to  Check  a  Rebellion 290 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 
Departure  from  Horncastle— Recruiting  Sergeant— Kauloes  and  Lolloes       .     300 


APPENDIX. 

CHAPTER  I. 


A  Word  for  Lavengrc 


CHAPTER  II. 
On  Priestcraft 310 

CHAPTER  III. 
On  Foreign  Nonsense 317 

CHAPTER  IV. 
On  Gentility  Nonsense— Illustrations  of  Gentility 320 

CHAPTER  V. 
Subject  of  Gentility  continued 323 

CHAPTER  VI. 
On  Scotch  Gentility  Nonsense— Charlie  o'er  the  Waterism     ....    334 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Same  subject  continued 34> 


CONTENTS.  xv 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

On  Canting  Nonsense 346 


CHAPTER  IX. 
Pseudo-Critics         .  354 

CHAPTER  X. 
Pseudo- Radicals 362 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Old  Radical .    368 


Editor's  Notes .    379 

Gypsy  List 389 

Bibliography •        •    393 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


EAST  DEREHAM,  NORFOLK  (photogravure}^  (REFERRED 
TO  AS  "  PRETTY  D ,"  GEORGE  SORROW'S  BIRTH- 
PLACE)   


Frontispiece 


THE     OLD     CHURCH,     ST.     GILES,     AT    WILLENHALL, 

STAFFORDSHIRE  (REBUILT  1867)      ....       To  face  page   48 


PORCH  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS  CHURCH,  EAST  DEREHAM  . 

THE  OLD  "BULL'S  HEAD,"  WOLVERHAMPTON  STREET, 
WILLENHALL 

THE  "SWAN"  INN,  STAFFORD  ("MY  INN— A  VERY  LARGE 
BUILDING  WITH  AN  ARCHWAY")     . 

HIGH  STREET,  HORNCASTLE 

THE  HORSE  FAIR,  HORNCASTLE 

HORNCASTLE  CHURCH  IN  1820  (SINCE  RESTORED) 


So 
106 

136 
215 
220 

273 


THE  ROMANY  RYE 

(1857-) 
CHAPTER  L 


I  AWOKE  at  the  first  break  of  day,  and,  leaving  the  postillion  fast 
asleep,  stepped  out  of  the  tent.  The  dingle  was  dank  and 
dripping.  I  lighted  a  fire  of  coals,  and  got  my  forge  in  readiness. 
I  then  ascended  to  the  field,  where  the  chaise  was  standing  as  we 
had  left  it  on  the  previous  evening.  After  looking  at  the  cloud- 
stone  near  it,  now  cold,  and  split  into  three  pieces,  I  set  about 
prying  narrowly  into  the  condition  of  the  wheel  and  axle-tree.  The 
latter  had  sustained  no  damage  of  any  consequence,  and  the 
wheel,  as  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge,  was  sound,  being  only 
slightly  injured  in  the  box.  The  only  thing  requisite  to  set  the 
chaise  in  a  travelling  condition  appeared  to  be  a  linch-pin,  which 
I  determined  to  make.  Going  to  the  companion  wheel,  I  took 
out  the  linch-pin,  which  I  carried  down  with  me  to  the  dingle,  to 
serve  me  as  a  model. 

I  found  Belle  by  this  time  dressed,  and  seated  near  the  forge. 
With  a  slight  nod  to  her  like  that  which  a  person  gives  who 
happens  to  see  an  acquaintance  when  his  mind  is  occupied 
with  important  business,  I  forthwith  set  about  my  work.  Select- 
ing a  piece  of  iron  which  I  thought  would  serve  my  purpose,  I 
placed  it  in  the  fire,  and  plying  the  bellows  in  a  furious  manner, 
soon  made  it  hot ;  then  seizing  it  with  the  tongs,  I  laid  it  on  the 
anvil,  and  began  to  beat  it  with  my  hammer,  according  to  the 
rules  of  my  art.  The  dingle  resounded  with  my  strokes.  Belle 
sat  still,  and  occasionally  smiled,  but  suddenly  started  up,  and 
retreated  towards  her  encampment,  on  a  spark  which  I  purposely 
sent  in  her  direction  alighting  on  her  knee.  I  found  the  making 
of  a  linch-pin  no  easy  matter ;  it  was,  however,  less  difficult  than 
the  fabrication  of  a  pony-shoe;  my  work,  indeed,  was  much 
facilitated  by  my  having  another  pin  to  look  at.  In  about  three- 


2  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

quarters  of  an  hour  I  had  succeeded  tolerably  well,  and  had 
produced  a  linch-pin  which  I  thought  would  serve.  During  all 
this  time,  notwithstanding  the  noise  which  I  was  making,  the 
postillion  never  showed  his  face  His  non-appearance  at  first 
alarmed  me :  I  was  afraid  he  might  be  dead,  but,  on  looking  in- 
to the  tent,  I  found  him  still  buried  in  the  soundest  sleep. 
1  'He  must  surely  be  descended  from  one  of  the  seven  sleepers," 
said  I,  as  I  turned  away,  and  resumed  my  work.  My  work 
finished,  I  took  a  little  oil,  leather  and  sand,  and  polished  the 
pin  as  well  as  I  could ;  then,  summoning  Belle,  we  both  went  to 
the  chaise,  where,  with  her  assistance,  I  put  on  the  wheel.  The 
linch-pin  which  I  had  made  fitted  its  place  very  well,  and  having 
replaced  the  other,  I  gazed  at  the  chaise  for  some  time  with  my 
heart  full  of  that  satisfaction  which  results  from  the  consciousness 
of  having  achieved  a  great  action  ;  then,  after  looking  at  Belle  in 
the  hope  of  obtaining  a  compliment  from  her  lips,  which  did  not 
come,  I  returned  to  the  dingle,  without  saying  a  word,  followed 
by  her.  Belle  set  about  making  preparations  for  breakfast ;  and 
I  taking  the  kettle  went  and  filled  it  at  the  spring.  Having  Jiung 
it  over  the  fire,  I  went  to  the  tent  in  which  the  postillion  wa's  still 
sleeping,  and  called  upon  him  to  arise.  He  awoke  with  a  start, 
and  stared  around  him  at  first  with  the  utmost  surprise,  not 
unmixed,  I  could  observe,  with  a  certain  degree  of  fear.  At  last, 
looking  in  my  face,  he  appeared  to  recollect  himself.  "  I  had 
quite  forgot,"  said  he,  as  he  got  up,  "  where  I  was,  and  all  that 
happened  yesterday.  However,  I  remember  now  the  whole  affair, 
thunder-storm,  thunder-bolt,  frightened  horses,  and  all  your 
kindness.  Come,  I  must  see  after  my  coach  and  horses  ;  I  hope 
we  shall  be  able  to  repair  the  damage."  "  The  damage  is  already 
quite  repaired,"  said  I,  "as  you  will  see,  if  you  come  to  the 
field  above."  "You  don't  say  so,"  said  the  postillion,  coming 
out  of  the  tent;  "well,  I  am  mightily  beholden  to  you.  Good- 
morning,  young  gentlewoman,"  said  he,  addressing  Belle,  who, 
having  finished  her  preparations  was  seated  near  the  fire.  "  Good 
morning,  young  man,"  said  Belle,  "I  suppose  you  would  be 
glad  of  some  breakfast;  however,  you  must  wait  a  little,  the 
kettle  does  not  boil."  "Come  and  look  at  your  chaise,"  said  I ; 
"  but  tell  me  how  it  happened  that  the  noise  which  I  have  been 
making  did  not  awake  you  ;  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  at  least 
I  was  hammering  close  at  your  ear."  "  I  heard  you  all  the 
time,"  said  the  postillion,  "but  your  hammering  made  me  sleep 
all  the  sounder;  I  am  used  to  hear  hammering  in  my  morning 
sleep.  There's  a  forge  close  by  the  room  where  I  sleep  when 


1825.]  THE  POSTILLION'S  DEPARTURE.  3 

I'm  at  home,  at  my  inn ;  for  we  have  all  kinds  of  conveniences 
at  my  inn — forge,  carpenter's  shop,  and  wheelwright's — so  that 
when  I  heard  you  hammering  I  thought,  no  doubt,  that  it  was  the 
old  noise,  and  that  I  was  comfortable  in  my  bed  at  my  own  inn." 
We  now  ascended  to  the  field,  where  I  showed  the  postillion  his 
chaise.  He  looked  at  the  pin  attentively,  rubbed  his  hands,  and 
gave  a  loud  laugh.  "Is  it  not  well  done?"  said  I.  "It  will 
do  till  I  get  home,"  he  replied.  "And  that  is  all  you  have  to 
say?"  I  demanded.  "  And  that's  a  good  deal,"  said  he,  "con- 
sidering who  made  it.  But  don't  be  offended,"  he  added,  "  I 
shall  prize  it  all  the  more  for  its  being  made  by  a  gentleman,  and 
no  blacksmith;  and  so  will  my  governor,  when  I  show  it  to 
him.  I  shan't  let  it  remain  where  it  is,  but  will  keep  it,  as  a 
remembrance  of  you,  as  long  as  I  live."  He  then  again  rubbed 
his  hands  with  great  glee,  and  said  :  "  I  will  now  go  and  see  after 
my  horses,  and  then  to  breakfast,  partner,  if  you  please  ".  Sud- 
denly, however,  looking  at  his  hands,  he  said,  "  Before  sitting 
down  to  breakfast  I  am  in  the  habit  of  washing  my  hands  and 
face;  I  suppose  you  could  not  furnish  me  with  a  little  soap  and 
water".  "As  much  water  as  you  please,"  said  I,  "but  if  you 
want  soap,  I  must  go  and  trouble  the  young  gentlewoman  for 
some,"  "By  no  means,"  said  the  postillion,  "  water  will  do  at  a 
pinch."  "  Follow  me,"  said  I,  and  leading  him  to  the  pond  of 
the  frogs  and  newts,  I  said,  "  this  is  my  ewer ;  you  are  welcome  to 
part  of  it — the  water  is  so  soft  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add 
soap  to  it;"  then  lying  down  on  the  bank,  I  plunged  my  head 
into  the  water,  then  scrubbed  my  hands  and  face,  and  afterwards 
wiped  them  with  some  long  grass  which  grew  on  the  margin  of 
the  pond.  "  Bravo,"  said  the  postillion,  "  I  see  you  know  how 
to  make  a  shift":  he  then  followed  my  example,  declared  he 
never  felt  more  refreshed  in  his  life,  and,  giving  a  bound,  said, 
"  he  would  go  and  look  after  his  horses  ". 

We  then  went  to  look  after  the  horses,  which  we  found  not 
much  the  worse  for  having  spent  the  night  in  the  open  air.  My 
companion  again  inserted  their  heads  in  the  corn-bags,  and, 
leaving  the  animals  to  discuss  their  corn,  returned  with  me  to  the 
dingle,  where  we  found  the  kettle  boiling.  We  sat  down,  and 
Belle  made  tea,  and  did  the  honours  of  the  meal.  The  postillion 
was  in  high  spirits,  ate  heartily,  and,  to  Belle's  evident  satis- 
faction, declared  that  he  had  never  drank  better  tea  in  his  life,  or 
indeed  any  half  so  good.  Breakfast  over,  he  said  that  he  must 
now  go  and  harness  his  horses,  as  it  was  high  time  for  him  to 
return  to  his  inn.  Belle  gave  him  her  hand  and  wished  him 


4  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

farewell.  The  postillion  shook  her  hand  warmly,  and  was  advanc- 
ing close  up  to  her — for  what  purpose  I  cannot  say — whereupon 
Belle,  withdrawing  her  hand,  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  which 
caused  the  postillion  to  retreat  a  step  or  two  with  an  exceedingly 
sheepish  look.  Recovering  himself,  however,  he  made  a  low 
bow,  and  proceeded  up  the  path.  I  attended  him,  and  helped  to 
harness  his  horses  and  put  them  to  the  vehicle ;  he  then  shook 
me  by  the  hand,  and  taking  the  reins  and  whip  mounted  to  his 
seat ;  ere  he  drove  away  he  thus  addressed  me  :  "  If  ever  I  forget 
your  kindness  and  that  of  the  young  woman  below,  dash  my 
buttons.  If  ever  either  of  you  should  enter  my  inn  you  may 
depend  upon  a  warm  welcome,  the  best  that  can  be  set  before 
you,  and  no  expense  to  either,  for  I  will  give  both  of  you  the 
best  of  characters  to  the  governor,  who  is  the  very  best  fellow 
upon  all  the  road.  As  for  your  linch-pin,  I  trust  it  will  serve  till 
I  get  home,  when  I  will  take  it  out  and  keep  it  in  remembrance 
of  you  all  the  days  of  my  life " :  then  giving  the  horses  a  jerk 
with  his  reins,  he  cracked  his  whip  and  drove  off. 

I  returned  to  the  dingle,  Belle  had  removed  the  breakfast 
things,  and  was  busy  in  her  own  encampment.  Nothing  occurred, 
worthy  of  being  related,  for  two  hours,  at  the  end  of  which  time 
Belle  departed  on  a  short  expedition,  and  I  again  found  myself 
alone  in  the  dingle. 


CHAPTER  II. 


IN  the  evening  I  received  another  visit  from  the  man  in  black. 
I  had  been  taking  a  stroll  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  was  sitting 
in  the  dingle  in  rather  a  listless  manner,  scarcely  knowing  how  to 
employ  myself;  his  coming,  therefore,  was  by  no  means  disagree- 
able to  me.  I  produced  the  Hollands  and  glass  from  my  tent, 
where  Isopel  Berners  had  requested  me  to  deposit  them,  and  also 
some  lump  sugar,  then  taking  the  gotch  I  fetched  water  from  the 
spring,  and,  sitting  down,  begged  the  man  in  black  to  help 
himself;  he  was  not  slow  in  complying  with  my  desire,  and 
prepared  for  himself  a  glass  of  Hollands  and  water  with  a  lump  of 
sugar  in  it.  After  he  had  taken  two  or  three  sips  with  evident 
satisfaction,  I,  remembering  his  chuckling  exclamation  of  "  Go 
to  Rome  for  money,"  when  he  last  left  the  dingle,  took  the 
liberty,  after  a  little  conversation,  of  reminding  him  of  it,  where- 
upon, with  a  he  !  he  !  he  !  he  replied  :  "  Your  idea  was  not  quite 
so  original  as  I  supposed.  After  leaving  you  the  other  night,  I 
remembered  having  read  of  an  Emperor  of  Germany  who  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  applying  to  Rome  for  money,  and  actually  put 
it  into  practice. 

"  Urban  the  Eighth  then  occupied  the  papal  chair,  of  the 
family  of  the  Barbarini,  nicknamed  the  Mosche^  or  Flies,  from 
the  circumstance  of  bees  being  their  armorial  bearing.  The 
Emperor  having  exhausted  all  his  money  in  endeavouring  to 
defend  the  Church  against  Gustavus  Adolphus,  the  great  King  of 
Sweden,  who  was  bent  on  its  destruction,  applied  in  his  necessity 
to  the  Pope  for  a  loan  of  money.  The  Pope,  however,  and  his 
relations,  whose  cellars  were  at  that  time  full  of  the  money  of  the 
Church,  which  they  had  been  plundering  for  years,  refused  to  lend 
him  a  scudo ;  whereupon  a  pasquinade  picture  was  stuck  up  at 
Rome,  representing  the  Church  lying  on  a  bed,  gashed  with 
dreadful  wounds,  and  beset  all  over  with  flies,  which  were  sucking 
her,  whilst  the  Emperor  of  Germany  was  kneeling  before  her  with 
a  miserable  face,  requesting  a  little  money  towards  carrying  on 
the  war  against  the  heretics,  to  which  the  poor  Church  was  made 
to  say :  '  How  can  I  assist  you,  O  my  champion,  do  you  not  see 

(s) 


6  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

that  the  flies  have  sucked  me  to  the  very  bones  ? '  Which  story," 
said  he,  "shows  that  the  idea  of  going  to  Rome  for  money  was 
not  quite  so  original  as  I  imagined  the  other  night,  though  utterly 
preposterous. 

"This  affair,"  said  he,  "occurred  in  what  were  called  the 
days  of  nepotism.  Certain  popes,  who  wished  to  make  themselves 
in  some  degree  independent  of  the  cardinals,  surrounded  them- 
selves with  their  nephews  and  the  rest  of  their  family,  who  sucked 
the  Church  and  Christendom  as  much  as  they  could,  none  doing 
so  more  effectually  than  the  relations  of  Urban  the  Eighth,  at 
whose  death,  according  to  the  book  called  the  Nipotismo  di  Roma, 
there  were  in  the  Barbarini  family  two  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
governments,  abbeys  and  high  dignities,  and  so  much  hard  cash 
in  their  possession,  that  three  score  and  ten  mules  were  scarcely 
sufficient  to  convey  the  plunder  of  one  of  them  to  Palestrina." 
He  added,  however,  that  it  was  probable  that  Christendom  fared 
better  whilst  the  popes  were  thus  independent,  as  it  was  less 
sucked,  whereas  before  and  after  that  period  it  was  sucked  by 
hundreds  instead  of  tens,  by  the  cardinals  and  all  their  relations 
instead  of  by  the  Pope  and  his  nephews  only. 

Then,  after  drinking  rather  copiously  ot  his  Hollands,  he  said 
that  it  was  certainly  no  bad  idea  of  the  popes  to  surround  them- 
selves with  nephews,  on  whom  they  bestowed  great  Church 
dignities,  as  by  so  doing  they  were  tolerably  safe  from  poison, 
whereas  a  pope,  if  abandoned  to  the  cardinals,  might  at  any  time 
be  made  away  with  by  them,  provided  they  thought  that  he  lived 
too  long,  or  that  he  seemed  disposed  to  do  anything  which  they 
disliked ;  adding,  that  Ganganelli  would  never  have  been  poisoned 
provided  he  had  had  nephews  about  him  to  take  care  of  his  life, 
and  to  see  that  nothing  unholy  was  put  into  his  food,  or  a  bustling 
stirring  brother's  wife  like  Donna  Olympia.  He  then  with  a 
he !  he !  he !  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  read  the  book  called  the 
Nipotismo  di  Roma,  and  on  my  replying  in  the  negative,  he  told 
me  that  it  was  a  very  curious  and  entertaining  book,  which  he 
occasionally  looked  at  in  an  idle  hour,  and  proceeded  to  relate 
to  me  anecdotes  out  of  the  Nipotismo  di  Roma,  about  the 
successor  of  Urban,  Innocent  the  Tenth,  and  Donna  Olympia, 
showing  how  fond  he  was  of  her,  and  how  she  cooked  his  food, 
and  kept  the  cardinals  away  from  it,  and  how  she  and  her  creatures 
plundered  Christendom,  with  the  sanction  of  the  Pope,  until 
Christendom,  becoming  enraged,  insisted  that  he  should  put  her 
away,  which  he  did  for  a  time,  putting  a  nephew — one  Camillo 
Astalli — in  her  place,  in  which,  however,  he  did  not  continue 


I825-]  THE  MAN  IN  BLACK.  7 

long ;  for  the  Pope  conceiving  a  pique  against  him,  banished  him 
from  his  sight,  and  recalled  Donna  Olympia,  who  took  care  of  his 
food,  and  plundered  Christendom  until  Pope  Innocent  died. 

I  said  that  I  only  wondered  that  between  pope  and  cardinals 
the  whole  system  of  Rome  had  not  long  fallen  to  the  ground,  and 
was  told,  in  reply,  that  its  not  having  fallen  was  the  strongest 
proof  of  its  vital  power,  and  the  absolute  necessity  for  the 
existence  of  the  system.  That  the  system,  notwithstanding  its 
occasional  disorders,  went  on.  Popes  and  cardinals  might  prey 
upon  its  bowels,  and  sell  its  interests,  but  the  system  survived. 
The  cutting  off  of  this  or  that  member  was  not  able  to  cause 
Rome  any  vital  loss ;  for,  as  soon  as  she  lost  a  member,  the  loss 
was  supplied  by  her  own  inherent  vitality ;  though  her  popes  had 
been  poisoned  by  cardinals,  and  her  cardinals  by  popes ;  and 
though  priests  occasionally  poisoned  popes,  cardinals,  and  each 
other,  after  all  that  had  been,  and  might  be,  she  had  still,  and 
would  ever  have,  her  priests,  cardinals  and  pope. 

Finding  the  man  in  black  so  communicative  and  reasonable, 
I  determined  to  make  the  best  of  my  opportunity,  and  learn  from 
him  all  I  could  with  respect  to  the  papal  system,  and  told  him 
that  he  would  particularly  oblige  me  by  telling  me  who  the  Pope 
of  Rome  was ;  and  received  for  answer,  that  he  was  an  old  man 
elected  by  a  majority  of  cardinals  to  the  papal  chair,  who, 
immediately  after  his  election,  became  omnipotent  and  equal  to 
God  on  earth.  On  my  begging  him  not  to  talk  such  nonsense, 
and  asking  him  how  a  person  could  be  omnipotent  who  could  not 
always  preserve  himself  from  poison,  even  when  fenced  round  by 
nephews,  or  protected  by  a  bustling  woman,  he,  after  taking  a 
long  sip  of  Hollands  and  water,  told  me  that  I  must  not  expect 
too  much  from  omnipotence ;  for  example,  that  as  it  would  be 
unreasonable  to  expect  that  One  above  could  annihilate  the  past — 
for  instance,  the  Seven  Years'  War,  or  the  French  Revolution — 
though  any  one  who  believed  in  Him  would  acknowledge  Him  to 
be  omnipotent,  so  would  it  be  unreasonable  for  the  faithful  to 
expect  that  the  Pope  could  always  guard  himself  from  poison. 
Then,  after  looking  at  me  for  a  moment  stedfastly,  and  taking 
another  sip,  he  told  me  that  popes  had  frequently  done  impossi- 
bilities ;  for  example,  Innocent  the  Tenth  had  created  a  nephew ; 
for,  not  liking  particularly  any  of  his  real  nephews,  he  had  created 
the  said  Camillo  Astalli  his  nephew ;  asking  me,  with  a  he  !  he ! 
"  What  but  omnipotence  could  make  a  young  man  nephew  to  a 
person  to  whom  he  was  not  in  the  slightest  degree  related  ?  "  On 
my  observing  that  of  course  no  one  believed  that  the  young  fellow 


8  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

was  really  the  Pope's  nephew,  though  the  Pope  might  have 
adopted  him  as  such,  the  man  in  black  replied,  "  that  the  reality 
of  the  nephewship  of  Camillo  Astalli  had  hitherto  never  become  a 
point  of  faith ;  let,  however,  the  present  Pope,  or  any  other  Pope, 
proclaim  that  it  is  necessary  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  the 
nephewship  of  Camillo  Astalli,  and  see  whether  the  faithful  would 
not  believe  in  it.  Who  can  doubt  that,"  he  added,  "seeing  that 
they  believe  in  the  reality  of  the  five  propositions  of  Jansenius  ? 
The  Jesuits,  wishing  to  ruin  the  Jansenists,  induced  a  pope  to 
declare  that  such  and  such  damnable  opinions,  which  they  called 
five  propositions,  were  to  be  found  in  a  book  written  by  Jansen, 
though,  in  reality,  no  such  propositions  were  to  be  found  there ; 
whereupon  the  existence  of  these  propositions  became  forthwith  a 
point  of  faith  to  the  faithful.  Do  you  then  think,"  he  demanded, 
"  that  there  is  one  of  the  faithful  who  would  not  swallow,  if  called 
upon,  the  nephewship  of  Camillo  Astalli  as  easily  as  the  five 
propositions  of  Jansenius?"  "Surely,  then,"  said  I,  "the 
faithful  must  be  a  pretty  pack  of  simpletons  ! "  Whereupon  the 
man  in  black  exclaimed  :  "  What !  a  Protestant,  and  an  infringer 
of  the  rights  of  faith !  Here's  a  fellow  who  would  feel  himself 
insulted  if  any  one  were  to  ask  him  how  he  could  believe  in  the 
miraculous  conception,  calling  people  simpletons  who  swallow 
the  five  propositions  of  Jansenius,  and  are  disposed,  if  called 
upon,  to  swallow  the  reality  of  the  nephewship  of  Camillo 
Astalli." 

I  was  about  to  speak,  when  I  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  Belle.  After  unharnessing  her  donkey,  and  adjusting  her  person 
a  little,  she  came  and  sat  down  by  us.  In  the  meantime  I  had 
helped  my  companion  to  some  more  Hollands  and  water,  and  had 
plunged  with  him  into  yet  deeper  discourse. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HAVING  told  the  man  in  black  that  I  should  like  to  know  all  the 
truth  with  regard  to  the  Pope  and  his  system,  he  assured  me  he 
should  be  delighted  to  give  me  all  the  information  in  his  power ; 
that  he  had  come  to  the  dingle,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the 
good  cheer  which  I  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  him,  as  in  the  hope 
of  inducing  me  to  enlist  under  the  banners  of  Rome,  and  to 
fight  in  her  cause ;  and  that  he  had  no  doubt  that,  by  speaking 
out  frankly  to  me,  he  ran  the  best  chance  of  winning  me  over. 

He  then  proceeded  to  tell  me  that  the  experience  of  countless 
ages  had  proved  the  necessity  of  religion ;  the  necessity,  he  would 
admit,  was  only  for  simpletons ;  but  as  nine-tenths  of  the  dwellers 
upon  this  earth  were  simpletons,  it  would  never  do  for  sensible 
people  to  run  counter  to  their  folly,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  was 
their  wisest  course  to  encourage  them  in  it,  always  provided  that, 
by  so  doing,  sensible  people  could  derive  advantage ;  that  the 
truly  sensible  people  of  this  world  were  the  priests,  who,  without 
caring  a  straw  for  religion  for  its  own  sake,  made  use  of  it  as  a 
cord  by  which  to  draw  the  simpletons  after  them  ;  that  there  were 
many  religions  in  this  world,  all  of  which  had  been  turned  to 
excellent  account  by  the  priesthood ;  but  that  the  one  the  best 
adapted  for  the  purposes  of  priestcraft  was  the  popish,  which,  he 
said,  was  the  oldest  in  the  world  and  the  best  calculated  to  endure. 
On  my  inquiring  what  he  meant  by  saying  the  popish  religion 
was  the  oldest  in  the  world,  whereas  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
the  Greek  and  Roman  religion  had  existed  long  before  it,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  old  Indian  religion  still  in  existence  and  vigour, 
he  said,  with  a  nod,  after  taking  a  sip  at  his  glass,  that,  between 
me  and  him,  the  popish  religion,  that  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and 
the  old  Indian  system  were,  in  reality,  one  and  the  same. 

"  You  told  me  that  you  intended  to  be  frank,"  said  I ;  "but, 
however  frank  you  may  be,  I  think  you  are  rather  wild." 

"  We  priests  of  Rome,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "  even  those 
amongst  us  who  do  not  go  much  abroad,  know  a  great  deal  about 
Church  matters,  of  which  you  heretics  have  very  little  idea. 
Those  of  our  brethren  of  the  Propaganda,  on  their  return  home 

(9) 


lo  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

from  distant  missions,  not  unfrequently  tell  us  very  strange  things 
relating  to  our  dear  mother ;  for  example,  our  first  missionaries  to 
the  East  were  not  slow  in  discovering  and  telling  to  their  brethren 
that  our  religion  and  the  great  Indian  one  were  identical,  no 
more  difference  between  them  than  between  Ram  and  Rome. 
Priests,  convents,  beads,  prayers,  processions,  fastings,  penances, 
all  the  same,  not  forgetting  anchorites  and  vermin,  he  !  he  !  The 
Pope  they  found  under  the  title  of  the  grand  lama,  a  sucking  child 
surrounded  by  an  immense  number  of  priests.  Our  good  brethren, 
some  two  hundred  years  ago,  had  a  hearty  laugh,  which  their 
successors  have  often  re-echoed  ;  they  said  that  helpless  suckling 
and  its  priests  put  them  so  much  in  mind  of  their  own  old  man, 
surrounded  by  his  cardinals,  he  !  he  !  Old  age  is  second  child- 
hood." 

"  Did  they  find  Christ  ?  "  said  I. 

"  They  found  him  too,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "  that  is,  they 
saw  his  image  ;  he  is  considered  in  India  as  a  pure  kind  of  being, 
and  on  that  account,  perhaps,  is  kept  there  rather  in  the  back- 
ground, even  as  he  is  here." 

"  All  this  is  very  mysterious  to  me,"  said  I. 

"Very  likely,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "but  of  this  I  am 
tolerably  sure,  and  so  are  most  of  those  of  Rome,  that  modern 
Rome  had  its  religion  from  ancient  Rome,  which  had  its  religion 
from  the  East." 

"But  how?"  I  demanded. 

"  It  was  brought  about,  I  believe,  by  the  wanderings  of 
nations,"  said  the  man  in  black.  "  A  brother  of  the  Propaganda, 
a  very  learned  man,  once  told  me — I  do  not  mean  Mezzofanti, 
who  has  not  five  ideas — this  brother  once  told  me  that  all  we  of 
the  Old  World,  from  Calcutta  to  Dublin,  are  of  the  same  stock, 
and  were  originally  of  the  same  language,  and " 

"  All  of  one  religion,"  I  put  in. 

"All  of  one  religion,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "and  now 
follow  different  modifications  of  the  same  religion." 

11  We  Christians  are  not  image-worshippers,"  said  I. 

"You  heretics  are  not,  you  mean,"  said  the  man  in  black; 
"  but  you  will  be  put  down,  just  as  you  have  always  been,  though 
others  may  rise  up  after  you ;  the  true  religion  is  image-worship ; 
people  may  strive  against  it,  but  they  will  only  work  themselves 
to  an  oil ;  how  did  it  fare  with  that  Greek  Emperor,  the  Iconoc- 
last, what  was  his  name,  Leon  the  Isaurian  ?  Did  not  his  image- 
breaking  cost  him  Italy,  the  fairest  province  of  his  empire,  and 
did  not  ten  fresh  images  start  up  at  home  for  every  one  which  he 


1 825.]  WORSHIP  OF  IMAGES.  il 

demolished  ?    Oh  !    you  little  know  the  craving  which  the  soul 
sometimes  feels  after  a  good  bodily  image." 

"  I  have  indeed  no  conception  of  it,"  said  I ;  "I  have  an 
abhorrence  of  idolatry — the  idea  of  bowing  before  a  graven 
figure ! " 

"  The  idea,  indeed  ! "  said  Belle,  who  had  now  joined  us. 

"  Did  you  never  bow  before  that  of  Shakespeare?  "  said  the 
man  m  black,  addressing  himself  to  me,  after  a  low  bow  to  Belle. 

"I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  did,"  said  I;  "but  even 
suppose  I  did  ?  " 

"  Suppose  you  did,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  shame  on  you, 
Mr.  Hater  of  Idolatry ;  why,  the  very  supposition  brings  you  to 
the  ground ;  you  must  make  figures  of  Shakespeare,  must  you  ? 
then  why  not  of  St.  Antonio,  or  Ignacio,  or  of  a  greater  personage 
still !  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,"  he  cried,  interrupting 
me,  as  I  was  about  to  speak.  "You  don't  make  his  image  in 
order  to  pay  it  divine  honours,  but  only  to  look  at  it,  and  think 
of  Shakespeare ;  but  this  looking  at  a  thing  in  order  to  think  of 
a  person  is  the  very  basis  of  idolatry.  Shakespeare's  works  are 
not  sufficient  for  you ;  no  more  are  the  Bible  or  the  legend  of 
Saint  Anthony  or  Saint  Ignacio  for  us,  that  is  for  those  of  us  who 
believe  in  them ;  I  tell  you  Zingaro,  that  no  religion  can  exist 
long  which  rejects  a  good  bodily  image." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  that  Shakespeare's  works  would 
not  exist  without  his  image?" 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "that  Shakespeare's  image 
is  looked  at  more  than  his  works,  and  will  be  looked  at,  and 
perhaps  adored,  when  they  are  forgotten.  I  am  surprised  that 
they  have  not  been  forgotten  long  ago;  I  am  no  admirer  of 
them." 

"But  I  can't  imagine,"  said  I,  "how  you  will  put  aside  the 
authority  of  Moses.  If  Moses  strove  against  image-worship, 
should  not  his  doing  so  be  conclusive  as  to  the  impropriety  of 
the  practice;  what  higher  authority  can  you  have  than  that  of 
Moses?" 

"  The  practice  of  the  great  majority  of  the  human  race,"  said 
the  man  in  black,  "and  the  recurrence  to  image- worship  where 
image-worship  has  been  abolished.  Do  you  know  that  Moses  is 
considered  by  the  Church  as  no  better  than  a  heretic,  and  though, 
for  particular  reasons,  it  has  been  obliged  to  adopt  his  writings, 
the  adoption  was  merely  a  sham  one,  as  it  never  paid  the  slightest 
attention  to  them  ?  No,  no,  the  Church  was  never  led  by  Moses, 
nor  by  one  mightier  than  he,  whose  doctrine  it  has  equally 


12  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

nullified — I  allude  to  Krishna  in  his  second  avatar ;  the  Church, 
it  is  true,  governs  in  his  name,  but  not  unfrequently  gives  him 
the  lie,  if  he  happens  to  have  said  anything  which  it  dislikes. 
Did  you  never  hear  the  reply  which  Padre  Paolo  Segani  made  to 
the  French  Protestant  Jean  Anthoine  Gue'rin,  who  had  asked 
him  whether  it  was  easier  for  Christ  to  have  been  mistaken  in  His 
Gospel,  than  for  the  Pope  to  be  mistaken  in  his  decrees  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  their  names  before,"  said  I. 

"The  answer  was  pat,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "though  he 
who  made  it  was  confessedly  the  most  ignorant  fellow  of  the  very 
ignorant  order  to  which  he  belonged,  the  Augustine.  'Christ 
might  err  as  a  man,'  said  he,  '  but  the  Pope  can  never  err,  being 
God.'  The  whole  story  is  related  in  the  Jhipotismo" 

"  I  wonder  you  should  ever  have  troubled  yourself  with  Christ 
at  all,"  said  I. 

"What  was  to  be  done?"  said  the  man  in  black;  "the 
power  of  that  name  suddenly  came  over  Europe,  like  the  power 
of  a  mighty  wind ;  it  was  said  to  have  come  from  Judea,  and 
from  Judea  it  probably  came  when  it  first  began  to  agitate  minds 
in  these  parts ;  but  it  seems  to  have  been  known  in  the  remote 
East,  more  or  less,  for  thousands  of  years  previously.  It  filled 
people's  minds  with  madness ;  it  was  followed  by  books  which 
were  never  much  regarded,  as  they  contained  little  of  insanity ; 
but  the  name  !  what  fury  that  breathed  into  people  !  the  books 
were  about  peace  and  gentleness,  but  the  name  was  the  most 
horrible  of  war-cries — those  who  wished  to  uphold  old  names  at 
first  strove  to  oppose  it,  but  their  efforts  were  feeble,  and  they 
had  no  good  war-cry ;  what  was  Mars  as  a  war-cry  compared 
with  the  name  of  .  .  .  ?  It  was  said  that  they  persecuted 
terribly,  but  who  said  so?  The  Christians.  The  Christians 
could  have  given  them  a  lesson  in  the  art  of  persecution,  and 
eventually  did  so.  None  but  Christians  have  ever  been  good 
persecutors;  well,  the  old  religion  succumbed,  Christianity  pre- 
vailed, for  the  ferocious  is  sure  to  prevail  over  the  gentle." 

"I  thought,"  said  I,  "you  stated  a  little  time  ago  that  the 
Popish  religion  and  the  ancient  Roman  are  the  same?" 

"  In  every  point  but  that  name,  that  Krishna  and  the  fury 
and  love  of  persecution  which  it  inspired,"  said  the  man  in  black. 
"  A  hot  blast  came  from  the  East,  sounding  Krishna  ;  it  absolutely 
maddened  people's  minds,  and  the  people  would  call  themselves 
his  children ;  we  will  not  belong  to  Jupiter  any  longer,  we  will 
belong  to  Krishna,  and  they  did  belong  to  Krishna ;  that  is  in 
Dame,  but  in  nothing  else ;  for  who  ever  cared  for  Krishna  in  the 


1825.]  KRISHNA  ET  CHRISTUS.  13 

Christian  world,  or  who  ever  regarded  the  words  attributed  to 
him,  or  put  them  in  practice  ? " 

"Why,  we  Protestants  regard  his  words,  and  endeavour  to 
practise  what  they  enjoin  as  much  as  possible." 

"  But  you  reject  his  image,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  better 
reject  his  words  than  his  image  :  no  religion  can  exist  long  which 
rejects  a  good  bodily  image.  Why,  the  very  negro  barbarians  of 
High  Barbary  could  give  you  a  lesson  on  that  point ;  they  have 
their  fetish  images,  to  which  they  look  for  help  in  their  afflictions; 
they  have  likewise  a  high  priest,  whom  they  call " 

"  Mumbo  Jumbo,"  said  I ;    "I  know  all  about  him  already." 

"How  came  you  to  know  anything  about  him?"  said  the 
man  in  black,  with  a  look  of  some  surprise. 

"  Some  of  us  poor  Protestant  tinkers,"  said  I,  "  though  we 
live  in  dingles,  are  also  acquainted  with  a  thing  or  two." 

"  I  really  believe  you  are,"  said  the  man  in  black,  staring  at 
me;  "but,  in  connection  with  this  Mumbo  Jumbo,  I  could  relate 
to  you  a  comical  story  about  a  fellow,  an  English  servant,  I  once 
met  at  Rome." 

"  It  would  be  quite  unnecessary,"  said  I ;  "I  would  much 
sooner  hear  you  talk  about  Krishna,  his  words  and  image." 

"  Spoken  like  a  true  heretic,"  said  the  man  in  black  ;  "  one  of 
the  faithful  would  have  placed  his  image  before  his  words ;  for 
what  are  all  the  words  in  the  world  compared  with  a  good  bodily 
image ! " 

"I  believe  you  occasionally  quote  his  words?"  said  I. 

"  He  !  he  ! "  said  the  man  in  black  ;  "  occasionally." 

"For  example,"  said  I,  "upon  this  rock  I  will  found  my 
Church." 

"  He  !  he ! "  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  you  must  really  become 
one  of  us." 

"  Yet  you  must  have  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  the  rock  to 
Rome  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,"  said  the  man  in  black  ;  "  faith  can  remove 
mountains,  to  say  nothing  of  rocks — ho  !  ho  ! " 

"But  I  cannot  imagine,"  said  I,  "what  advantage  you  could 
derive  from  perverting  those  words  of  Scripture  in  which  the 
Saviour  talks  about  eating  His  body." 

"  I  do  not  know,  indeed,  why  we  troubled  our  heads  about 
the  matter  at  all,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "but  when  you  talk 
about  perverting  the  meaning  of  the  text,  you  speak  ignorantly, 
Mr.  Tinker ;  when  He  whom  you  call  the  Saviour  gave  His 
followers  the  sop,  and  bade  them  eat  it,  telling  them  it  was  His 


14  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1815. 

body,  He  delicately  alluded  to  what  it  was  incumbent  upon  them 
to  do  after  His  death,  namely,  to  eat  His  body." 

"You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  He  intended  they  should 
actually  eat  His  body?" 

"Then  you  suppose  ignorantly,"  said  the  man  in  black; 
"  eating  the  bodies  of  the  dead  was  a  heathenish  custom, 
practised  by  the  heirs  and  legatees  of  people  who  left  property ; 
and  this  custom  is  alluded  to  in  the  text." 

"  But  what  has  the  New  Testament  to  do  with  heathen 
customs,"  said  I,  "except  to  destroy  them?" 

"  More  than  you  suppose,"  said  the  man  in  black.  "  We 
priests  of  Rome,  who  have  long  lived  at  Rome,  know  much 
better  what  the  New  Testament  is  made  of  than  the  heretics  and 
their  theologians,  not  forgetting  their  Tinkers ;  though  I  confess 
some  of  the  latter  have  occasionally  surprised  us — for  example, 
Bunyan.  The  New  Testament  is  crowded  with  allusions  to 
heathen  customs,  and  with  words  connected  with  pagan  sorcery. 
Now,  with  respect  to  words,  I  would  fain  have  you,  who  pretend 
to  be  a  philologist,  tell  me  the  meaning  of  Amen." 

I  made  no  answer. 

"We  of  Rome,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "know  two  or 
three  things  of  which  the  heretics  are  quite  ignorant ;  for  ex- 
ample, there  are  those  amongst  us — those,  too,  who  do  not 
pretend  to  be  philologists — who  know  what  Amen  is,  and  more- 
over, how  we  got  it.  We  got  it  from  our  ancestors,  the  priests  of 
ancient  Rome;  and  they  got  the  word  from  their  ancestors  of 
the  East,  the  priests  of  Buddh  and  Brahma." 

"  And  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"Amen,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "is  a  modification  of  the 
old  Hindoo  formula,  Omani  batsikhom,  by  the  almost  ceaseless 
repetition  of  which  the  Indians  hope  to  be  received  finally  to  the 
rest  or  state  of  forgetfulness  of  Buddh  or  Brahma;  a  foolish 
practice  you  will  say,  but  are  you  heretics  much  wiser,  who  are 
continually  sticking  Amen  to  the  end  of  your  prayers,  little 
knowing  when  you  do  so,  that  you  are  consigning  yourselves  to 
the  repose  of  Buddh  !  Oh,  what  hearty  laughs  our  missionaries 
have  had  when  comparing  the  eternally-sounding  Eastern  gib 
berish  of  Omani  batsikhom,  Omani  batsikhom,  and  the  Ave 
Maria  and  Amen  Jesus  of  our  own  idiotical  devotees." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  the  Ave  Marias  and  Amens  of 
your  superstitious  devotees,"  said  I ;  "I  dare  say  that  they  use 
them  nonsensically  enough,  but  in  putting  Amen  to  the  end  of  a 
prayer,  we  merely  intend  to  express,  'So  let  it  be  '." 


1825.]  "BELLISSIMA  BIONDINA."  15 

"  It  means  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the  man  in  black  ;  "  and 
the  Hindoos  might  just  as  well  put  your  national  oath  at  the  end 
of  their  prayers,  as  perhaps  they  will  after  a  great  many  thousand 
years,  when  English  is  forgotten,  and  only  a  few  words  of  it 
remembered  by  dim  tradition  without  being  understood.  How 
strange  if,  after  the  lapse  of  four  thousand  years,  the  Hindoos 
should  damn  themselves  to  the  blindness  so  dear  to  their  present 
masters,  even  as  their  masters  at  present  consign  themselves  to 
the  forgetfulness  so  dear  to  the  Hindoos ;  but  my  glass  has  been 
empty  for  a  considerable  time ;  perhaps,  Bellissima  Biondina" 
said  he,  addressing  Belle,  "you  will  deign  to  replenish  it?" 

"I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Belle,  "  you  have  drunk 
quite  enough,  and  talked  more  than  enough,  and  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  wish  you  would  leave  us  alone." 

"Shame  on  you,  Belle/'  said  I,  " consider  the  obligations  of 
hospitality." 

"  I  am  sick  of  that  word,"  said  Belle,  "you  are  so  frequently 
misusing  it ;  were  this  place  not  Mumpers'  Dingle,  and  conse- 
quently as  free  to  the  fellow  as  ourselves,  I  would  lead  him  out 
of  it." 

"Pray  be  quiet,  Belle,"  said  I.  "  You  had  better  help  your- 
self," said  I,  addressing  myself  to  the  man  in  black,  "the  lady  is 
angry  with  you." 

"lam  sorry  for  it,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "if  she  is  angry 
with  me,  I  am  not  so  with  her,  and  shall  be  always  proud  to  wait 
upon  her  ;  in  the  meantime,  I  will  wait  upon  myself." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  man  in  black  having  helped  himself  to  some  more  of  his 
favourite  beverage,  and  tasted  it,  I  thus  addressed  him  :  "  The 
evening  is  getting  rather  advanced,  and  I  can  see  that  this  lady," 
pointing  to  Belle,  "  is  anxious  for  her  tea,  which  she  prefers  to 
take  cosily  and  comfortably  with  me  in  the  dingle  :  the  place,  it  is 
true,  is  as  free  to  you  as  to  ourselves,  nevertheless  as  we  are  located 
here  by  necessity,  whilst  you  merely  come  as  a  visitor,  I  must 
take  the  liberty  of  telling  you  that  we  shall  be  glad  to  be  alone, 
as  soon  as  you  have  said  what  you  have  to  say,  and  have  finished 
the  glass  of  refreshment  at  present  in  your  hand.  I  think  you 
said  some  time  ago  that  one  of  your  motives  for  coming  hither 
was  to  induce  me  to  enlist  under  the  banner  of  Rome.  I  wish  to 
know  whether  that  was  really  the  case?  " 

"  Decidedly  so,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  I  come  here  princi- 
pally in  the  hope  of  enlisting  you  in  our  regiment,  in  which  I 
have  no  doubt  you  could  do  us  excellent  service." 

"Would  you  enlist  my  companion  as  well?  "  I  demanded. 

"  We  should  be  only  too  proud  to  have  her  among  us,  whether 
she  comes  with  you  or  alone,"  said  the  man  in  black,  with  a 
polite  bow  to  Belle. 

"  Before  we  give  you  an  answer,"  I  replied,  "  I  would  fain 
know  more  about  you ;  perhaps  you  will  declare  your  name  ?  " 

"  That  I  will  never  do,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  no  one  in 
England  knows  it  but  myself,  and  I  will  not  declare  it,  even  in  a 
dingle ;  as  for  the  rest,  Sono  un  Prete  Cattolico  Appostolico—\\\*\. 
is  all  that  many  a  one  of  us  can  say  for  himself,  and  it  assuredly 
means  a  great  deal." 

"We  will  now  proceed  to  business,"  said  I.  "You  must  be 
aware  that  we  English  are  generally  considered  a  self-interested 
people." 

"  And  with  considerable  justice,"  said  the  man  in  black,  drink- 
ing. "Well,  you  are  a  person  of  acute  perception,  and  I  will 
presently  make  it  evident  to  you  that  it  would  be  to  your  interest 
to  join  with  us.  You  are  at  present,  evidently,  in  very  needy 
circumstances,  and  are  lost,  not  only  to  yourself,  but  to  the 

(id) 


i825-]  COMING  TO  BUSINESS.  17 

world ;  but  should  you  enlist  with  us,  I  could  find  you  an 
occupation  not  only  agreeable,  but  one  in  which  your  talents 
would  have  free  scope.  I  would  introduce  you  in  the  various 
grand  houses  here  in  England,  to  which  I  have  myself  admission, 
as  a  surprising  young  gentleman  of  infinite  learning,  who  by  dint 
of  study  has  discovered  that  the  Roman  is  the  only  true  faith.  I 
tell  you  confidently  that  our  popish  females  would  make  a  saint, 
nay,  a  God  of  you ;  they  are  fools  enough  for  anything.  There 
is  one  person  in  particular  with  whom  I  should  wish  to  make  you 
acquainted,  in  the  hope  that  you  would  be  able  to  help  me  to 
perform  good  service  to  the  holy  see.  He  is  a  gouty  old  fellow, 
of  some  learning,  residing  in  an  old  hall,  near  the  great  western 
seaport,  and  is  one  of  the  very  few  amongst  the  English  Catholics 
possessing  a  grain  of  sense.  I  think  you  could  help  us  to  govern 
him,  for  he  is  not  unfrequently  disposed  to  be  restive,  asks  us 
strange  questions — occasionally  threatens  us  with  his  crutch ;  and 
behaves  so  that  we  are  often  afraid  that  we  shall  lose  him,  or, 
rather,  his  property,  which  he  has  bequeathed  to  us,  and  which  is 
enormous.  I  am  sure  that  you  could  help  us  to  deal  with  him ; 
sometimes  with  your  humour,  sometimes  with  your  learning,  and 
perhaps  occasionally  with  your  fists." 

"And  in  what  manner  would  you  provide  for  my  companion  ?" 
said  I. 

"We  would  place  her  at  once,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "in 
the  house  of  two  highly  respectable  Catholic  ladies  in  this  neighbour- 
hood, where  she  would  be  treated  with  every  care  and  considera- 
tion till  her  conversion  should  be  accomplished  in  a  regular 
manner;  we  would  then  remove  her  to  a  female  monastic 
establishment,  where,  after  undergoing  a  year's  probation,  during 
which  time  she  would  be  instructed  in  every  elegant  accomplish- 
ment, she  should  take  the  veil.  Her  advancement  would  speedily 
follow,  for,  with  such  a  face  and  figure,  she  would  make  a  capital 
lady  abbess,  especially  in  Italy,  to  which  country  she  would 
probably  be  sent;  ladies  of  her  hair  and  complexion — to  say 
nothing  of  her  height — being  a  curiosity  in  the  south.  With  a 
little  care  and  management  she  could  soon  obtain  a  vast  reputa- 
tion for  sanctity ;  and  who  knows  but  after  her  death  she  might 
become  a  glorified  saint — he  !  he !  Sister  Maria  Theresa,  for  that 
is  the  name  I  propose  you  should  bear.  Holy  Mother  Maria 
Theresa — glorified  and  celestial  saint,  I  have  the  honour  of 
drinking  to  your  health,"  and  the  man  in  black  drank. 

"Well,  Belle,"  said  I,  "what  have  you  to  say  to  the  gentle- 
man's proposal  ?  " 


i8  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"That  if  he  goes  on  in  this  way  I  will  break  his  glass  against 
his  mouth." 

"You  have  heard  the  lady's  answer,"  said  I. 

"I  have,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "and  shall  not  press  the 
matter.  I  can't  help,  however,  repeating  that  she  would  make  a 
capital  lady  abbess ;  she  would  keep  the  nuns  in  order,  I  warrant 
her ;  no  easy  matter !  Break  the  glass  against  my  mouth — he  !  he  ! 
How  she  would  send  the  holy  utensils  flying  at  the  nuns'  heads 
occasionally,  and  just  the  person  to  wring  the  nose  of  Satan, 
should  he  venture  to  appear  one  night  in  her  cell  in  the  shape  of 
a  handsome  black  man.  No  offence,  madam,  no  offence,  pray 
retain  your  seat,"  said  he,  observing  that  Belle  had  started  up ; 
"I  mean  no  offence.  Well,  if  you  will  not  consent  to  be  an 
abbess,  perhaps  you  will  consent  to  follow  this  young  Zingaro, 
and  to  co-operate  with  him  and  us.  I  am  a  priest,  madam,  and 
can  join  you  both  in  an  instant,  connubio  stabili,  as  I  suppose  the 
knot  has  not  been  tied  already." 

"  Hold  your  mumping  gibberish,"  said  Belle,  "  and  leave  the 
dingle  this  moment,  for  though  't  is  free  to  every  one,  you  have 
no  right  to  insult  me  in  it." 

"Pray  be  pacified,"  said  I  to  Belle,  getting  up,  and  placing 
myself  between  her  and  the  man  in  black;  "he  will  presently 
leave,  take  my  word  for  it — there,  sit  down  again,"  said  I,  as  I 
led  her  to  her  seat ;  then,  resuming  my  own,  I  said  to  the  man  in 
black  :  "  I  advise  you  to  leave  the  dingle  as  soon  as  possible  ". 

"  I  should  wish  to  have  your  answer  to  my  proposal  first,"  said 
he. 

"Well,  then,  here  you  shall  have  it:  I  will  not  entertain  your 
proposal ;  I  detest  your  schemes  :  they  are  both  wicked  and 
foolish." 

"  Wicked,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "  have  they  not — he  !  he  !— 
the  furtherance  of  religion  in  view  ?  " 

"A  religion,"  said  I,  "in  which  you  yourself  do  not  believe, 
and  which  you  contemn." 

"Whether  I  believe  in  it  or  not,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "  it 
is  adapted  for  the  generality  of  the  human  race ;  so  I  will  forward 
it,  and  advise  you  to  do  the  same.  It  was  nearly  extirpated  in 
these  regions,  but  it  is  springing  up  again  owing  to  circumstances. 
Radicalism  is  a  good  friend  to  us ;  all  the  Liberals  laud  up  our 
system  out  of  hatred  to  the  Established  Church,  though  our 
system  is  ten  times  less  liberal  than  the  Church  of  England. 
Some  of  them  have  really  come  over  to  us.  I  myself  confess  a 
baronet  who  presided  over  the  first  Radical  meeting  ever  held  in 


1825.]  THE  HELPING  HAND.  ig 

England — he  was  an  atheist  when  he  came  over  to  us,  in  the 
hope  of  mortifying  his  own  Church — but  he  is  now — ho  !  ho  ! — a 
real  Catholic  devotee — quite  afraid  of  my  threats  ;  I  make  him 
frequently  scourge  himself  before  me.  Well,  Radicalism  does  us 
good  service,  especially  amongst  the  lower  classes,  for  Radicalism 
chiefly  flourishes  amongst  them;  for  though  a  baronet  or  two 
may  be  found  amongst  the  Radicals,  and  perhaps  as  many  lords — 
fellows  who  have  been  discarded  by  their  own  order  for  clownish- 
ness,  or  something  they  have  done — it  incontestably  flourishes 
best  among  the  lower  orders.  Then  the  love  of  what  is  foreign  is 
a  great  friend  to  us ;  this  love  is  chiefly  confined  to  the  middle 
and  upper  classes.  Some  admire  the  French,  and  imitate  them  ; 
others  must  needs  be  Spaniards,  dress  themselves  up  in  a  zamarra, 
stick  a  cigar  in  their  mouth,  and  say,  c— -jo.  Others  would 
pass  for  Germans ;  he  !  he  !  the  idea  of  any  one  wishing  to  pass 
for  a  German  !  but  what  has  done  us  more  service  than  anything 
else  in  these  regions — I  mean  amidst  the  middle  classes — has  been 
the  novel,  the  Scotch  novel.  The  good  folks,  since  they  have 
read  the  novels,  have  become  Jacobites ;  and,  because  all  the 
Jacobs  were  Papists,  the  good  folks  must  become  Papists  also, 
or,  at  least,  papistically  inclined.  The  very  Scotch  Presby- 
terians, since  they  have  read  the  novels,  are  become  all  but 
Papists ;  I  speak  advisedly,  having  lately  been  amongst  them. 
There's  a  trumpery  bit  of  a  half-papist  sect,  called  the  Scotch 
Episcopalian  Church,  which  lay  dormant  and  nearly  forgotten  for 
upwards  of  a  hundred  years,  which  has  of  late  got  wonderfully 
into  fashion  in  Scotland,  because,  forsooth,  some  of  the  long- 
haired gentry  of  the  novels  were  said  to  belong  to  it,  such  as 
Montrose  and  Dundee ;  and  to  this  the  Presbyterians  are  going 
over  in  throngs,  traducing  and  vilifying  their  own  forefathers,  or 
denying  them  altogether,  and  calling  themselves  descendants  of — 
ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! — Scottish  Cavaliers  !  !  !  I  heard  them  myself  re- 
peating snatches  of  Jacobite  ditties  about  'Bonnie  Dundee,'  and:— 

*  Come,  fill  up  my  cup,  and  fill  up  my  can, 
And  saddle  my  horse,  and  call  up  my  man.' 

There's  stuff  for  you  !  Not  that  I  object  to  the  first  part  of  the 
ditty.  It  is  natural  enough  that  a  Scotchman  should  cry, '  Come, 
fill  up  my  cup ! '  more  especially  if  he's  drinking  at  another 
person's  expense — all  Scotchmen  being  fond  of  liquor  at  free 
cost :  but  '  Saddle  his  horse  ! ! ! ' — for  what  purpose,  I  would 
ask  ?  Where  is  the  use  of  saddling  a  horse,  unless  you  can  ride 
him  ?  and  where  was  there  ever  a  Scotchman  who  could  ride  ?  " 


20  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"Of  course  you  have  not  a  drop  of  Scotch  blood  in  your 
veins,"  said  I,  "  otherwise  you  would  never  have  uttered  that 
last  sentence." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  you 
know  little  of  Popery  if  you  imagine  that  it  cannot  extinguish 
love  of  country,  even  in  a  Scotchman.  A  thorough-going  Papist 
— and  who  more  thorough-going  than  myself  ? — cares  nothing 
for  his  country  ;  and  why  should  he  ?  he  belongs  to  a  system, 
and  not  to  a  country." 

"  One  thing,"  said  I,  "  connected  with  you,  I  cannot  under- 
stand; you  call  yourself  a  thorough -going  Papist,  yet  are  con- 
tinually saying  the  most  pungent  things  against  Popery,  and 
turning  to  unbounded  ridicule  those  who  show  any  inclination 
to  embrace  it." 

"  Rome  is  a  very  sensible  old  body,"  said  the  man  in  black, 
"  and  little  cares  what  her  children  say,  provided  they  do  her 
bidding.  She  knows  several  things,  and  amongst  others,  that  no 
servants  work  so  hard  and  faithfully  as  those  who  curse  their 
masters  at  every  stroke  they  do.  She  was  not  fool  enough  to  be 
angry  with  the  Miquelets  of  Alba,  who  renounced  her,  and  called 
her  puta  all  the  time  they  were  cutting  the  throats  of  the 
Netherlanders.  Now,  if  she  allowed  her  faithful  soldiers  the 
latitude  of  renouncing  her,  and  calling  her  puta  in  the  market- 
place, think  not  she  is  so  unreasonable  as  to  object  to  her  faithful 
priests  occasionally  calling  her  puta  in  the  dingle." 

"But,"  said  I,  "suppose  some  one  were  to  tell  the  world 
some  of  the  disorderly  things  which  her  priests  say  in  the 
dingle?" 

"He  would  have  the  fate  of  Cassandra,"  said  the  man  in 
black;  "no  one  would  believe  him — yes,  the  priests  would:  but 
they  would  make  no  sign  of  belief.  They  believe  in  the  Alcoran 
des  Cordeliers — that  is,  those  who  have  read  it ;  but  they  make 
no  sign." 

"  A  pretty  system,"  said  I,  "  which  extinguishes  love  of 
country  and  of  everything  noble,  and  brings  the  minds  of  its 
ministers  to  a  parity  with  those  of  devils,  who  delight  in  nothing 
but  mischief." 

"The  system,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "  is  a  grand  one,  with 
unbounded  vitality.  Compare  it  with  your  Protestantism,  and 
you  will  see  the  difference.  Popery  is  ever  at  work,  whilst 
Protestantism  is  supine.  A  pretty  Church,  indeed,  the  Pro- 
testant! Why,  it  can't  even  work  a  miracle." 

"  Can  your  Church  work  miracles  ?  "  I  demandod. 


1825.]  MIRACLES.  31 

"  That  was  the  very  question,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "which 
the  ancient  British  clergy  asked  of  Austin  Monk,  after  they  had 
been  fools  enough  to  acknowledge  their  own  inability.  'We 
don't  pretend  to  work  miracles;  do  you?'  'Oh!  dear  me,  yes,' 
said  Austin  ;  'we  find  no  difficulty  in  the  matter.  We  can  raise 
the  dead,  we  can  make  the  blind  see ;  and  to  convince  you,  I 
will  give  sight  to  the  blind.  Here  is  this  blind  Saxon,  whom  you 
cannot  cure,  but  on  whose  eyes  I  will  manifest  my  power,  in 
order  to  show  the  difference  between  the  true  and  the  false 
Church;'  and  forthwith,  with  the  assistance  of  a  handkerchief 
and  a  little  hot  water,  he  opened  the  eyes  of  the  barbarian.  So 
we  manage  matters !  A  pretty  Church,  that  old  British  Church, 
which  could  not  work  miracles — quite  as  helpless  as  the  modern 
one.  The  fools  !  was  birdlime  so  scarce  a  thing  amongst  them  ? 
— and  were  the  properties  of  warm  water  so  unknown  to  them, 
that  they  could  not  close  a  pair  of  eyes  and  open  them?" 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  I,  "  that  the  British  clergy  at  that  interview 
with  Austin  did  not  bring  forward  a  blind  Welshman,  and  ask 
the  monk  to  operate  upon  him." 

"Clearly,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "  that's  what  they  ought 
to  have  done ;  but  they  were  fools  without  a  single  resource." 
Here  he  took  a  sip  at  his  glass. 

"  But  they  did  not  believe  in  the  miracle?  "  said  I. 

"And  what  did  there  not  believing  avail  them?"  said  the 
man  in  black.  "Austin  remained  master  of  the  field,  and  they 
went  away  holding  their  heads  down,  and  muttering  to  them- 
selves. What  a  fine  subject  for  a  painting  would  be  Austin's 
opening  the  eyes  of  the  Saxon  barbarian,  and  the  discomfiture  of 
the  British  clergy  !  I  wonder  it  has  not  been  painted  ! — he  !  he  ! " 

"  I  suppose  your  Church  still  performs  miracles  occasionally  !" 
said  I. 

"  It  does,"  said  the  man  in  black.  "  The  Rev. has  lately 

been  performing  miracles  in  Ireland,  destroying  devils  that  had 
got  possession  of  people ;  he  has  been  eminently  successful.  In 
two  instances  he  not  only  destroyed  the  devils,  but  the  lives  of 
the  people  possessed — he  !  he  !  Oh  !  there  is  so  much  energy 
in  our  system  ;  we  are  always  at  work,  whilst  Protestantism  is 
supine." 

"You  must  not  imagine,"  said  I,  "that  all  Protestants  are 
supine ;  some  of  them  appear  to  be  filled  with  unbounded  zeal. 
They  deal,  it  is  true,  not  in  lying  miracles,  but  they  propagate 
God's  Word.  I  remember  only  a  few  months  ago,  having 
occasion  for  a  Bible,  going  to  an  establishment,  the  object  of 


as  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [18*5. 

which  was  to  send  Bibles  all  over  the  world.  The  supporters  of 
that  establishment  could  have  no  self-interested  views ;  for  I  was 
supplied  by  them  with  a  noble-sized  Bible  at  a  price  so  small 
as  to  preclude  the  idea  that  it  could  bring  any  profit  to  the 
vendors." 

The  countenance  of  the  man  in  black  slightly  fell.  "  I  know 
the  people  to  whom  you  allude,"  said  he;  "indeed,  unknown  to 
them,  I  have  frequently  been  to  see  them,  and  observed  their 
ways.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  there  is  not  a  set  of  people  in  this 
kingdom  who  have  caused  our  Church  so  much  trouble  and 
uneasiness.  I  should  rather  say  that  they  alone  cause  us  any ; 
for  as  for  the  rest,  what  with  their  drowsiness,  their  plethora, 
their  folly  and  their  vanity,  they  are  doing  us  anything  but 
mischief.  These  fellows  are  a  pestilent  set  of  heretics,  whom  we 
would  gladly  see  burnt ;  they  are,  with  the  most  untiring  per- 
severance, and  in  spite  of  divers  minatory  declarations  of  the 
holy  father,  scattering  their  books  abroad  through  all  Europe, 
and  have  caused  many  people  in  Catholic  countries  to  think  that 
hitherto  their  priesthood  have  endeavoured,  as  much  as  possible, 
to  keep  them  blinded.  There  is  one  fellow  amongst  them  for 
whom  we  entertain  a  particular  aversion  ;  a  big,  burly  parson, 
with  the  face  of  a  lion,  the  voice  of  a  buffalo,  and  a  fist  like  a 
sledge-hammer.  The  last  time  I  was  there,  I  observed  that  his 
eye  was  upon  me,  and  I  did  not  like  the  glance  he  gave  me  at 
all ;  I  observed  him  clench  his  fist,  and  I  took  my  departure 
as  fast  as  I  conveniently  could.  Whether  he  suspected  who  I 
was,  I  know  not ;  but  I  did  not  like  his  look  at  all,  and  do  not 
intend  to  go  again." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  I,  "  you  confess  that  you  have  redoubtable 
enemies  to  your  plans  in  these  regions,  and  that  even  amongst 
the  ecclesiastics  there  are  some  widely  different  from  those  of  the 
plethoric  and  Platitude  schools  ?  " 

"  It  is  but  too  true,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "and  if  the  rest 
of  your  Church  were  like  them  we  should  quickly  bid  adieu  to  all 
hope  of  converting  these  regions,  but  we  are  thankful  to  be  able 
to  say  that  such  folks  are  not  numerous  ;  there  are,  moreover, 
causes  at  work  quite  sufficient  to  undermine  even  their  zeal. 
Their  sons  return  at  the  vacations,  from  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
puppies,  full  of  the  nonsense  which  they  have  imbibed  from 
Platitude  professors ;  and  this  nonsense  they  retail  at  home, 
where  it  fails  not  to  make  some  impression,  whilst  the  daughters 
scream — I  beg  their  pardons — warble  about  Scotland's  Montrose, 
and  Bonny  Dundee,  and  all  the  Jacobs ;  so  we  have  no  doubt 


1825.]  LATITUDE.  23 

that  their  papas'  zeal  about  the  propagation  of  such  a  vulgar  book 
as  the  Bible  will  in  a  very  little  time  be  terribly  diminished.  Old 
Rome  will  win,  so  you  had  better  join  her." 

And  the  man  in  black  drained  the  last  drop  in  his  glass. 

"  Never,"  said  I,  "  will  I  become  the  slave  of  Rome." 

"She  will  allow  you  latitude,"  said  the  man  in  black;  "do 
but  serve  her,  and  she  will  allow  you  to  call  her  puta  at  a 
decent  time  and  place,  her  popes  occasionally  call  her  puta. 
A  pope  has  been  known  to  start  from  his  bed  at  midnight  and 
rush  out  into  the  corridor,  and  call  out  puta  three  times  in  a 
voice  which  pierced  the  Vatican  ;  that  pope  was " 

"Alexander  the  Sixth,  I  dare  say,"  said  I;  "the  greatest 
monster  that  ever  existed,  though  the  worthiest  head  which  the 
popish  system  ever  had — so  his  conscience  was  not  always  still. 
I  thought  it  had  been  seared  with  a  brand  of  iron." 

"  I  did  not  allude  to  him,  but  to  a  much  more  modern  pope," 
said  the  man  in  black ;  "  it  is  true  he  brought  the  word,  which  is 
Spanish,  from  Spain,  his  native  country,  to  Rome.  He  was  very 
fond  of  calling  the  Church  by  that  name,  and  other  popes  have 
taken  it  up.  She  will  allow  you  to  call  her  by  it,  if  you  belong  to 
her." 

"I  shall  call  her  so,"  said  I,  "without  belonging  to  her,  or 
asking  her  permission." 

"  She  will  allow  you  to  treat  her  as  such,  if  you  belong  to  her," 
said  the  man  in  black;  "  there  is  a  chapel  in  Rome,  where  there 
is  a  wondrously  fair  statue — the  son  of  a  cardinal — I  mean  his 

nephew — once Well,  she  did  not  cut  off  his  head,  but 

slightly  boxed  his  cheek  and  bade  him  go." 

"I  have  read  all  about  that  in  Keyslers  Travels"  said  I; 
"  do  you  tell  her  that  I  would  not  touch  her  with  a  pair  of  tongs, 
unless  to  seize  her  nose." 

"  She  is  fond  of  lucre,"  said  the  man  in  black ;  "  but  does 
not  grudge  a  faithful  priest  a  little  private  perquisite,"  and  he 
took  out  a  very  handsome  gold  repeater. 

"  Are  you  not  afraid,"  said  I,  "to  flash  that  watch  before  the 
eyes  of  a  poor  tinker  in  a  dingle  ?  " 

"  Not  before  the  eyes  of  one  like  you,"  said  the  man  in  black. 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  said  I ;  "  I  care  not  for  perquisites." 

"  So  you  will  not  join  us?"  said  the  man  in  black. 

"You  have  had  my  answer,"  said  I. 

"  If  I  belong  to  Rome,"  said  the  man  in  black,  "why  should 
not  you  ?  " 

"  I  may  be  a  poor  tinker,"  said  I,  "  but  I  may  never  have 


24  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

undergone  what  you  have.     You  remember,  perhaps,  the  fable  of 
the  fox  who  had  lost  his  tail  ?  " 

The  man  in  black  winced,  but  almost  immediately  recovering 
himself,  he  said  :  "  Well,  we  can  do  without  you,  we  are  sure  of 
winning". 

"  It  is  not  the  part  of  wise  people,"  said  I,  "to  make  sure  of 
the  battle  before  it  is  fought :  there's  the  landlord  of  the  public- 
house,  who  made  sure  that  his  cocks  would  win,  yet  the  cocks 
lost  the  main,  and  the  landlord  is  little  better  than  a  bankrupt." 

"  People  very  different  from  the  landlord,"  said  the  man  in 
black,  "both  in  intellect  and  station,  think  we  shall  surely  win; 
there  are  clever  machinators  among  us  who  have  no  doubt  of  our 
success." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  will  set  the  landlord  aside,  and  will  adduce 
one  who  was  in  every  point  a  very  different  person  from  the  land- 
lord, both  in  understanding  and  station ;  he  was  very  fond  of 
laying  schemes,  and,  indeed,  many  of  them  turned  out  successful. 
His  last  and  darling  one,  however,  miscarried,  notwithstanding 
that  by  his  calculations  he  had  persuaded  himself  that  there  was 
no  possibility  of  its  failing — the  person  that  I  allude  to  was  old 
Fraser " 

"  Who?  "  said  the  man  in  black,  giving  a  start,  and  letting  his 
glass  fall. 

"  Old  Fraser  of  Lovat,"  said  I ;  "the  prince  of  all  conspirators 
and  machinators ;  he  made  sure  of  placing  the  Pretender  on  the 
throne  of  these  realms.  '  I  can  bring  into  the  field  so  many 
men,'  said  he ;  *  my  son-in-law,  Cluny,  so  many,  and  likewise  my 
cousin,  and  my  good  friend ; '  then  speaking  of  those  on  whom 
the  Government  reckoned  for  support,  he  would  say :  '  So  and  so 
are  lukewarm,  this  person  is  ruled  by  his  wife,  who  is  with  us, 
the  clergy  are  anything  but  hostile  to  us,  and  as  for  the  soldiers 
and  sailors,  half  are  disaffected  to  King  George,  and  the  rest 
cowards'.  Yet  when  things  came  to  a  trial,  this  person«whom 
he  had  calculated  upon  to  join  the  Pretender  did  not  stir  from 
his  home,  another  joined  the  hostile  ranks,  the  presumed  cowards 
turned  out  heroes,  and  those  whom  he  thought  heroes  ran  away 
like  lusty  fellows  at  Culloden  ;  in  a  word,  he  found  himself  utterly 
mistaken,  and  in  nothing  more  than  in  himself;  he  thought  he  was 
a  hero,  and  proved  himself  nothing  more  than  an  old  fox  ;  he 
got  up  a  hollow  tree,  didn't  he,  just  like  a  fox  ? 

L'opere  sue  nonfuron  leonine,  ma  di  volpf."  l 
1  Cf.  L' Inferno,  xxvii.,  25. 


1825.]  FRASER  OF  LOVAT.  25 

The  man  in  black  sat  silent  for  a  considerable  time,  and  at 
length  answered  in  rather  a  faltering  voice  :  "  I  was  not  prepared 
for  this  ;  you  have  frequently  surprised  me  by  your  knowledge  of 
things  which  I  should  never  have  expected  any  person  of  your 
appearance  to  be  acquainted  with,  but  that  you  should  be  aware 
of  my  name  is  a  circumstance  utterly  incomprehensible  to  me. 
I  had  imagined  that  no  person  in  England  was  acquainted  with 
it ;  indeed,  I  don't  see  how  any  person  should  be,  I  have  revealed 
it  to  no  one,  not  being  particularly  proud  of  it.  Yes,  I  acknow- 
ledge that  my  name  is  Fraser,  and  that  I  am  of  the  blood  of  that 
family  or  clan,  of  which  the  rector  of  our  college  once  said,  that 
he  was  firmly  of  opinion  that  every  individual  member  was  either 
rogue  or  fool.  I  was  born  at  Madrid,  of  pure,  0tme,  Fraser  blood. 

My  parents,  at  an  early  age,  took  me  to ,  where  they  shortly 

died,  not,  however,  before  they  had  placed  me  in  the  service  of  a 
cardinal,  with  whom  I  continued  some  years,  and  who,  when 
he  had  no  further  occasion  for  me,  sent  me  to  the  college,  in  the  left- 
hand  cloister  of  which,  as  you  enter,  rest  the  bones  of  Sir  John 
D ;  there,  in  studying  logic  and  humane  letters,  I  lost  what- 
ever of  humanity  I  had  retained  when  discarded  by  the  cardinal. 
Let  me  not,  however,  forget  two  points,  I  am  a  Fraser,  it  is 
true,  but  not  a  Flannagan ;  I  may  bear  the  vilest  name  of  Britain, 
but  not  of  Ireland ;  I  was  bred  up  at  the  English  house,  and 

there  is  at a  house  for  the  education  of  bog-trotters ;    I 

was  not  bred  up  at  that ;  beneath  the  lowest  gulf,  there  is  one  yet 
lower ;  whatever  my  blood  may  be,  it  is  at  least  not  Irish  ;  what- 
ever my  education  may  have  been,  I  was  not  bred  at  the  Irish 
seminary — on  those  accounts  I  am  thankful — yes,  per  Dio  !  I  am 
thankful.  After  some  years  at  college — but  why  should  I  tell 
you  my  history?  you  know  it  already  perfectly  well,  probably 
much  better  than  myself.  I  am  now  a  missionary  priest,  labour- 
ing in  heretic  England,  like  Parsons  and  Garnet  of  old,  save  and 
except  that,  unlike  them,  I  run  no  danger,  for  the  times  are 
changed.  As  I  told  you  before,  I  shall  cleave  to  Rome — I  must ; 
no  hay  remedio,  as  they  say  at  Madrid,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to 
further  her  holy  plans — he !  he  ! — but  I  confess  I  begin  to  doubt 
of  their  being  successful  here — you  put  me  out;  old  Fraser  of 
Lovat !  I  have  heard  my  father  talk  of  him ;  he  had  a  gold- 
headed  cane,  with  which  he  once  knocked  my  grandfather  down 
— he  was  an  astute  one,  but,  as  you  say,  mistaken,  particularly  in 
himself.  I  have  read  his  life  by  Arbuthnot,  it  is  in  the  library  of 
our  college.  Farewell !  I  shall  come  no  more  to  this  dingle — to 
come  would  be  of  no  utility ;  I  shall  go  and  labour  elsewhere, 


THE  ROMANY  RYE. 


though  how  you  came  to  know  my  name,  is  a  fact  quite 

inexplicable — farewell !  to  you  both." 

He  then  arose,  and  without  further  salutation  departed  from 
the  dingle,  in  which  I  never  saw  him  again.  "  How,  in  the  name 
of  wonder,  came  you  to  know  that  man's  name?  "  said  Belle,  after 
he  had  been  gone  some  time. 

"  I,  Belle  ?    I  knew  nothing  of  the  fellow's  name,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  you  mentioned  his  name." 

"  If  I  did,  it  was  merely  casually,  by  way  of  illustration.  I 
was  saying  how  frequently  cunning  people  were  mistaken  in  their 
calculations,  and  I  adduced  the  case  of  old  Fraser  of  Lovat,  as 
one  in  point ;  I  brought  forward  his  name,  because  I  was  well 
acquainted  with  his  history,  from  having  compiled  and  inserted  it 
in  a  wonderful  work,  which  I  edited  some  months  ago,  entitled 
Newgate  Lives  and  Trials,  but  without  the  slightest  idea  that  it 
was  the  name  of  him  who  was  sitting  with  us ;  he,  however, 
thought  that  I  was  aware  of  his  name.  Belle  !  Belle  !  for  a  long 
time  I  doubted  the  truth  of  Scripture,  owing  to  certain  conceited 
discourses  which  I  had  heard  from  certain  conceited  individuals, 
but  now  I  begin  to  believe  firmly ;  what  wonderful  texts  there 
are  in  Scripture,  Belle !  *  The  wicked  trembleth  where — 
where '" 

" '  They  were  afraid  where  no  fear  was  ;  thou  hast  put  them  to 
confusion,  because  God  hath  despised  them,' "  said  Belle ;  "I 
have  frequently  read  it  before  the  clergyman  in  the  great  house  of 
Long  Melford.  But  if  you  did  not  know  the  man's  name,  why 
let  him  go  away  supposing  that  you  did  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  he  was  fool  enough  to  make  such  a  mistake,  I  was 
not  going  to  undeceive  him — no,  no !  Let  the  enemies  of  old 
England  make  the  most  of  all  their  blunders  and  mistakes,  they 
will  have  no  help  from  me ;  but  enough  of  the  fellow,  Belle  ;  let 
us  now  have  tea,  and  after  that  — 

"  No  Armenian,"  said  Belle ;  "  but  I  want  to  ask  a  question  : 
pray  are  all  people  of  that  man's  name  either  rogues  or  fools  ?  " 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say,  Belle,  this  person  being  the 
only  one  of  the  name  I  have  ever  personally  known.  I  suppose 
there  are  good  and  bad,  clever  and  foolish,  amongst  them,  as 
amongst  all  large  bodies  of  people ;  however,  after  the  tribe  had 
been  governed  for  upwards  of  thirty  years  by  such  a  person  as 
old  Fraser,  it  were  no  wonder  if  the  greater  part  had  become 
either  rogues  or  fools :  he  was  a  ruthless  tyrant,  Belle,  over  his 
own  people,  and  by  his  cruelty  and  rapaciousness  must  either 
have  stunned  them  into  an  apathy  approaching  to  idiotcy,  or 


i8»5-]  THE  HOPELESS  TASK.  «7 

made  them  artful  knaves  in  their  own  defence.  The  qualities 
of  parents  are  generally  transmitted  to  their  descendants — the 
progeny  of  trained  pointers  are  almost  sure  to  point,  even  with- 
out being  taught :  if,  therefore,  all  Frasers  are  either  rogues  or 
fools,  as  this  person  seems  to  insinuate,  it  is  little  to  be  wondered 
at,  their  parents  or  grandparents  having  been  in  the  training- 
school  of  old  Fraser  !  But  enough  of  the  old  tyrant  and  his 
slaves.  Belle,  prepare  tea  this  moment,  or  dread  my  anger.  I 
have  not  a  gold-headed  cane  like  old  Fraser  of  Lovat,  but  I  have, 
what  some  people  would  dread  much  more,  an  Armenian  rune- 
stick." 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  the  following  morning,  as  I  was  about  to  leave  my  tent,  I 
heard  the  voice  of  Belle  at  the  door,  exclaiming  :  "  Sleepest  thou, 
or  wakest  thou  ?"  "  I  was  never  more  awake  in  my  life,"  said  I, 
going  out.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  "  He  of  the  horse-shoe," 
said  she,  "  Jasper,  of  whom  I  have  heard  you  talk,  is  above  there 
on  the  field  with  all  his  people ;  I  went  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago  to  fill  the  kettle  at  the  spring,  and  saw  them  arriving." 
"  It  is  well,"  said  I ;  "  have  you  any  objection  to  asking  him  and 
his  wife  to  breakfast  ?  "  "  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  said  she ; 
"  I  have  cups  enough,  and  have  no  objection  to  their  company." 
"We  are  the  first  occupiers  of  the  ground,"  said  I,  "and,  being 
so,  should  consider  ourselves  in  the  light  of  hosts,  and  do  our 
best  to  practise  the  duties  of  hospitality."  "  How  fond  you  are 
of  using  that  word,"  said  Belle ;  "  if  you  wish  to  invite  the  man 
and  his  wife,  do  so,  without  more  ado;  remember,  however, 
that  I  have  not  cups  enough,  nor  indeed  tea  enough,  for  the 
whole  company."  Thereupon  hurrying  up  the  ascent,  I  presently 
found  myself  outside  the  dingle.  It  was  as  usual  a  brilliant 
morning,  the  dewy  blades  of  the  rye-grass  which  covered  the 
plain  sparkled  brightly  in  the  beams  of  the  sun,  which  had 
probably  been  about  two  hours  above  the  horizon.  A  rather 
numerous  body  of  my  ancient  friends  and  allies  occupied  the 
ground  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mouth  of  the  dingle.  About  five 
yards  on  the  right  I  perceived  Mr.  Petulengro  busily  employed  in 
erecting  his  tent ;  he  held  in  his  hand  an  iron  bar,  sharp  at  the 
bottom,  with  a  kind  of  arm  projecting  from  the  top  for  the 
purpose  of  supporting  a  kettle  or  cauldron  over  the  fire,  and 
which  is  called  in  the  Romanian  language  "  Kekauviskoe  saster". 
With  the  sharp  end  of  this  Mr.  Petulengro  was  making  holes  in 
the  earth,  at  about  twenty  inches  distant  from  each  other,  into 
which  he  inserted  certain  long  rods  with  a  considerable  bend  to- 
wards the  top,  which  constituted  no  less  than  the  timbers  of  the 
tent,  and  the  supporters  of  the  canvas.  Mrs.  Petulengro,  and  a 
female  with  a  crutch  in  her  hand,  whom  I  recognised  as  Mrs. 
Chikno,  sat  near  him  on  the  ground,  whilst  two  or  three  children, 

(»*) 


1825.]  MR.  AND  MRS.  SMITH.  1$ 

from  six  to  ten  years  old,  who  composed  the  young  family  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Petulengro,  were  playing  about. 

"  Here  we  are,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  as  he  drove 
the  sharp  end  of  the  bar  into  the  ground ;  "  here  we  are  and 
plenty  of  us — Bute  dosta  Romany  chals." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  all,"  said  I,  "  and  particularly  you, 
madam,"  said  I,  making  a  bow  to  Mrs.  Petulengro;  "and  you 
also,  madam,"  taking  off  my  hat  to  Mrs.  Chikno. 

"Good-day  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro;  "you  look,  as 
usual,  charmingly,  and  speak  so,  too ;  you  have  not  forgot  your 
manners." 

"  It  is  not  all  gold  that  glitters,"  said  Mrs.  Chikno.  "How- 
ever, good-morrow  to  you,  young  rye." 

"  I  do  not  see  Tawno,"  said  I,  looking  around  ;  "  where  is  he  ?  " 

"Where,  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Chikno;  "I  don't  know;  he 
who  countenances  him  in  the  roving  line  can  best  answer." 

"He  will  be  here  anon,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "he  has 
merely  ridden  down  a  by-road  to  show  a  farmer  a  two-year-old 
colt;  she  heard  me  give  him  directions,  but  she  can't  be  satis- 
fied." 

"  I  can't,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Chikno. 

"  And  why  not,  sister?  " 

"  Because  I  place  no  confidence  in  your  words,  brother;  as  I 
said  before,  you  countenances  him." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  '  I  know  nothing  of  your  private  concerns  ;  I 
am  rome  on  an  errand.  Isopel  Berners,  down  in  the  dell  there, 
requests  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  and  Mrs  Petulengro's  company  at 
breakfast.  She  will  be  happy  also  to  see  you,  madam,"  said  I, 
addressing  Mrs  Chikno. 

"Is  that  young  female  your  wife,  young  man?"  said  Mrs. 
Chikno 

"  My  wife  ?  "  said  I 

"  Yes,  young  man  ;  your  wife,  your  lawful  certificated  wife  ?  " 

"No/'  said  I ;  "  she  is  not  my  wife." 

"Then  I  will  not  visit  with  her,"  said  Mrs.  Chikno;  I 
countenance  nothing  in  the  roving  line." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  roving  line? "  I  demanded. 

"What  do  I  mean  by  the  roving  line?  Why,  by  it  I  mean 
such  conduct  as  is  not  tatcheno.  When  ryes  and  rawnies  live 
together  in  dingles,  without  being  certificated,  I  call  such  be- 
haviour being  tolerably  deep  in  the  roving  line,  everything 
savouring  of  which  I  am  determined  not  to  sanctify.  I  have 
suffered  too  much  by  my  own  certificated  husband's  outbreaks  in 


30  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

that  line  to  afford  anything  of  the  kind  the  slightest  shadow  of 
countenance." 

"It  is  hard  that  people  may  not  live  in  dingles  together 
without  being  suspected  of  doing  wrong,"  said  I. 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  interposing;  "and,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  altogether  surprised  at  the  illiberally  of  my 
sister's  remarks.  I  have  often  heard  say,  that  is  in  good  com- 
pany— and  I  have  kept  good  company  in  my  time— that  suspicion 
is  king's  evidence  of  a  narrow  and  uncultivated  mind  ;  on  which 
account  I  am  suspicious  of  nobody,  not  even  of  my  own  husband, 
whom  some  people  would  think  I  have  a  right  to  be  suspicious  of, 
seeing  that  on  his  account  I  once  refused  a  lord ;  but  ask  him 
whether  I  am  suspicious  of  him,  and  whether  I  seeks  to  keep  him 
close  tied  to  my  apron-string ;  he  will  tell  you  nothing  of  the 
kind ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  I  always  allows  him  an  agree- 
able latitude,  permitting  him  to  go  where  he  pleases,  and  to 
converse  with  any  one  to  whose  manner  of  speaking  he  may 
take  a  fancy.  But  I  have  had  the  advantage  of  keeping  good 
company,  and  therefore 

"Meklis,"  said  Mrs.  Chikno,  "pray  drop  all  that,  sister;  I 
believe  I  have  kept  as  good  company  as  yourself;  and  with 
respect  to  that  offer  with  which  you  frequently  fatigue  those  who 
keeps  company  with  you,  I  believe,  after  all,  it  was  something  in 
the  roving  and  uncertificated  line." 

"In  whatever  line  it  was,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  "the  offer 
was  a  good  one.  The  young  duke — for  he  was  not  only  a  lord, 
but  a  duke  too — offered  to  keep  me  a  fine  carriage,  and  to  make 
me  his  second  wife  ;  for  it  is  true  that  he  had  another  who  was 
old  and  stout,  though  mighty  rich,  and  highly  good-natured ;  so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  the  young  lord  assured  me  that  she  would 
have  no  manner  of  objection  to  the  arrangement ;  more  especially 
if  I  would  consent  to  live  in  the  same  house  with  her,  being  fond 
of  young  and  cheerful  society.  So  you  see " 

"Yes,  yes/'  said  Mrs.  Chikno,  "I  see  what  I  before  thought, 
that  it  was  altogether  in  the  uncertificated  line." 

"  Mek  lis,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro ;  "  I  use  your  own  word, 
madam,  which  is  Romany :  for  my  own  part,  I  am  not  fond  of 
using  Romany  words,  unless  I  can  hope  to  pass  them  off  for 
French,  which  I  cannot  in  the  present  company.  I  heartily  wish 
that  there  was  no  such  language,  and  do  my  best  to  keep  it  away 
from  my  children,  lest  the  frequent  use  of  it  should  altogether 
confirm  them  in  low  and  vulgar  habits.  I  have  four  children, 
madam,  but " 


I825-] 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


"  I  suppose  by  talking  of  your  four  children  you  wish  to  check 
me  for  having  none,"  said  Mrs.  Chikno  bursting  into  tears ;  "  if  I 
have  no  children,  sister,  it  is  no  fault  of  mine,  it  is — but  why  do 
I  call  you  sister?"  said  she  angrily;  "you  are  no  sister  of  mine, 
you  are  a  grasni,  a  regular  mare — a  pretty  sister,  indeed,  ashamed 
of  your  own  language.  I  remember  well  that  by  your  high-flying 
notions  you  drove  your  own  mother " 

"  We  will  drop  it,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro  ;  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
raise  my  voice,  and  to  make  myself  ridiculous.  Young  gentle- 
man," said  she,  "pray  present  my  compliments  to  Miss  Isopel 
Berners,  and  inform  her  that  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  cannot  accept 
her  polite  invitation.  I  am  just  arrived,  and  have  some  slight 
domestic  matters  to  see  to — amongst  others,  to  wash  my  children's 
faces ;  but  that  in  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  when  I  have  attended 
to  what  I  have  to  do,  and  have  dressed  myself,  I  hope  to  do  my- 
self the  honour  of  paying  her  a  regular  visit ;  you  will  tell  her 
that,  with  my  compliments.  With  respect  to  my  husband,  he 
can  answer  for  himself,  as  I,  not  being  of  a  jealous  disposition, 
never  interferes  with  his  matters." 

"And  tell  Miss  Berners,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "that  I  shall 
be  happy  to  wait  upon  her  in  company  with  my  wife  as  soon  as 
we  are  regularly  settled :  at  present  I  have  much  on  my  hands, 
having  not  only  to  pitch  my  own  tent,  but  this  here  jealous 
woman's,  whose  husband  is  absent  on  my  business." 

Thereupon  I  returned  to  the  dingle,  and,  without  saying  any- 
thing about  Mrs.  Chikno's  observations,  communicated  to  Isopel 
the  messages  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Petulengro ;  Isopel  made  no  other 
reply  than  by  replacing  in  her  coffer  two  additional  cups  and 
saucers,  which,  in  expectation  of  company,  she  had  placed  upon 
the  board.  The  kettle  was  by  this  time  boiling.  We  sat  down, 
and,  as  we  breakfasted,  I  gave  Isopel  Berners  another  lesson  in 
the  Armenian  language. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


ABOUT  midday  Mr  and  Mrs.  Petulengro  came  to  the  dingle  to  pay 
the  promised  visit.  Belle,  at  the  time  of  their  arrival,  was  in  her 
tent,  but  I  was  at  the  fire-place,  engaged  in  hammering  part  of 
the  outer-tire,  or  defence,  which  had  come  off  from  one  of  the 
wheels  of  my  vehicle.  On  perceiving  them  I  forthwith  went  to 
receive  them.  Mr.  Petulengro  was  dressed  in  Roman  fashion, 
with  a  somewhat  smartly  cut  sporting- coat,  the  buttons  of  which 
were  half-crowns,  and  a  waistcoat  scarlet  and  black,  the  buttons 
of  which  were  spaded  half-guineas ;  his  breeches  were  of  a  stuff 
half-velveteen,  half-corduroy,  the  cords  exceedingly  broad.  He 
had  leggings  of  buff  cloth,  furred  at  the  bottom,  and  upon  his 
feet  were  highlows.  Under  his  left  arm  was  a  long  black  whale- 
bone riding-whip,  with  a  red  lash,  and  an  immense  silver  knob. 
Upon  his  head  was  a  hat  with  a  high  peak,  somewhat  of  the  kind 
which  the  Spaniards  call  calanes,  so  much  in  favour  with  the  bravos 
of  Seville  and  Madrid.  Now,  when  I  have  added  that  Mn 
Petulengro  had  on  a  very  fine  white  holland  shirt,  I  think  I  have 
described  his  array.  Mrs.  Petulengro — I  beg  pardon  for  not 
having  spoken  of  her  first — was  also  arrayed  very  much  in  the 
Roman  fashion.  Her  hair,  which  was  exceedingly  black  and 
lustrous,  fell  in  braids  on  either  side  of  her  head.  In  her  ears 
were  rings,  with  long  drops  of  gold.  Round  her  neck  was  a 
string  of  what  seemed  very  much  like  very  large  pearls,  somewhat 
tarnished,  however,  and  apparently  of  considerable  antiquity. 
"Here  we  are,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "here  we  are, 
come  to  see  you — wizard  and  witch,  witch  and  wizard  : — 

'  There's  a  chovahanee,  and  a  chovahano, 
The  nav  se  len  is  Petulengro '  ". 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro ;  "  you  make 
me  ashamed  of  you  with  your  vulgar  ditties.  We  are  come  a 
visiting  now,  and  everything  low  should  be  left  behind." 

"True,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "why  bring  what's  low  to  the 
dingle,  which  is  low  enough  already?" 

"What,  are  you  a  catcher  at  words?"  said  I.  "I  thought 
(32) 


i825-]  THE  RECEPTION.  33 

that  catching  at  words  had  been  confined  to  the  pothouse  farmers 
and  village  witty  bodies." 

"All  fools,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  "catch  at  words,  and  very 
naturally,  as  by  so  doing  they  hope  to  prevent  the  possibility  of 
rational  conversation.  Catching  at  words  confined  to  pothouse 
farmers,  and  village  witty  bodies  I  No,  nor  to  Jasper  Petulengro. 
Listen  for  an  hour  or  two  to  the  discourse  of  a  set  they  call  news- 
paper editors,  and  if  you  don't  go  out  and  eat  grass,  as  a  dog  does 
when  he  is  sick,  I  am  no  female  woman.  The  young  lord  whose 
hand  I  refused  when  I  took  up  with  wise  Jasper,  once  brought 
two  of  them  to  my  mother's  tan,  when  hankering  after  my 
company ;  they  did  nothing  but  carp  at  each  other's  words,  and  a 
pretty  hand  they  made  of  it.  Ill-favoured  dogs  they  were ;  and 
their  attempts  at  what  they  called  wit  almost  as  unfortunate  as 
their  countenances." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  madam,  we  will  drop  all  catchings  and  carp- 
ings  for  the  present.  Pray  take  your  seat  on  this  stool,  whilst  I 
go  and  announce  to  Miss  Isopel  Berners  your  arrival." 

Thereupon  I  went  to  Belle's  habitation,  and  informed  her 
that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Petulengro  had  paid  us  a  visit  of  ceremony, 
and  were  awaiting  her  at  the  fire-place.  "  Pray  go  and  tell  them 
that  I  am  busy,"  said  Belle,  who  was  engaged  with  her  needle. 
"  I  do  not  feel  disposed  to  take  part  in  any  such  nonsense."  "  I 
shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  I ;  "and  I  insist  upon  your  coming 
forthwith,  and  showing  proper  courtesy  to  your  visitors.  If  you 
do  not,  their  feelings  will  be  hurt,  and  you  are  aware  that  I  cannot 
bear  that  people's  feelings  should  be  outraged.  Come  this 

moment,  or "     "Or  what  ?"  said  Belle,  half  smiling.     "I 

was  about  to  say  something  in  Armenian,"  said  I.  "  Well,"  said 
Belle,  laying  down  her  work,  "I  will  come."  "Stay,"  said  I, 
"your  hair  is  hanging  about  your  ears,  and  your  dress  is  in 
disorder ;  you  had  better  stay  a  minute  or  two  to  prepare  yourself 
to  appear  before  your  visitors,  who  have  come  in  their  very  best 
attire."  "  No,"  said  Belle,  "  I  will  make  no  alteration  in  my 
appearance ;  you  told  me  to  come  this  moment,  and  you  shall  be 
obeyed."  So  Belle  and  I  advanced  towards  our  guests.  As  we 
drew  nigh,  Mr.  Petulengro  took  off  his  hat  and  made  a  profound 
obeisance  to  Belle,  whilst  Mrs.  Petulengro  rose  from  the  stool 
and  made  a  profound  courtesy.  Belle  who  had  flung  her  hair 
back  over  her  shoulders,  returned  their  salutations  by  bending 
her  head,  and  after  slightly  glancing  at  Mr.  Petulengro,  fixed  her 
large  blue  eyes  full  upon  his  wife.  Both  these  females  were  very 
handsome — but  how  unlike !  Belle  fair,  with  blue  eyes  and 

3 


34  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

flaxen  hair ;  Mrs.  Petulengro  with  olive  complexion,  eyes  black, 
and  hair  dark — as  dark  as  could  be.  Belle,  in  demeanour  calm 
and  proud  ;  the  gypsy  graceful,  but  full  of  movement  and  agita- 
tion. And  then  how  different  were  those  two  in  stature  !  The 
head  of  the  Romany  rawnie  scarcely  ascended  to  the  breast  of 
Isopel  Berners.  I  could  see  that  Mrs.  Petulengro  gazed  on  Belle 
with  unmixed  admiration  ;  so  did  her  husband.  "  Well,"  said  the 
latter,  "  one  thing  I  will  say,  which  is,  that  there  is  only  one  on 
earth  worthy  to  stand  up  in  front  of  this  she,  and  that  is  the 
beauty  of  the  world,  as  far  as  man  flesh  is  concerned,  Tawno 
Chikno ;  what  a  pity  he  did  not  come  down  I  " 

"Tawno  Chikno,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  flaring  up ;  "a  pretty 
fellow  he  to  stand  up  in  front  of  this  gentlewoman,  a  pity  he 
didn't  come,  quotha  ?  not  at  all,  the  fellow  is  a  sneak,  afraid  of 
his  wife.  He  stand  up  against  this  rawnie  !  why,  the  look  she  has 
given  me  would  knock  the  fellow  down." 

"  It  is  easier  to  knock  him  down  with  a  look  than  with  a  fist," 
said  Mr.  Petulengro  ;  "  that  is,  if  the  look  comes  from  a  woman  : 
not  that  I  am  disposed  to  doubt  that  this  female  gentlewoman  is 
able  to  knock  him  down  either  one  way  or  the  other.  I  have 
heard  of  her  often  enough,  and  have  seen  her  once  or  twice, 
though  not  so  near  as  now.  Well,  ma'am,  my  wife  and  I  are 
come  to  pay  our  respects  to  you ;  we  are  both  glad  to  find  that 
you  have  left  off  keeping  company  with  Flaming  Bosville,  and 
have  taken  up  with  my  pal ;  he  is  not  very  handsome,  but  a 
better " 

"  I  take  up  with  your  pal,  as  you  call  him  !  you  had  better  mind 
what  you  say,"  said  Isopel  Berners ;  "  I  take  up  with  nobody." 

"  I  merely  mean  taking  up  your  quarters  with  him,"  said  Mr. 
Petulengro  ;  "and  I  was  only  about  to  say  a  better  fellow-lodger 
you  cannot  have,  or  a  more  instructive,  especially  if  you  have  a 
desire  to  be  inoculated  with  tongues,  as  he  calls  them.  I  wonder 
whether  you  and  he  have  had  any  tongue-work  already." 

"  Have  you  and  your  wife  anything  particular  to  say  ?  If  you 
have  nothing  but  this  kind  of  conversation  I  must  leave  you,  as  I 
am  going  to  make  a  journey  this  afternoon,  and  should  be  getting 
ready." 

"  You  must  excuse  my  husband,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro ; 
"  he  is  not  overburdened  with  understanding,  and  has  said  but 
one  word  of  sense  since  he  has  been  here,  which  was  that  we 
came  to  pay  our  respects  to  you.  We  have  dressed  ourselves  in 
our  best  Roman  way,  in  order  to  do  honour  to  you  ;  perhaps  you 
do  not  like  it ;  if  so,  I  am  sorry.  I  have  no  French  clothes. 


1825.]  BELLE  AND  PAKOMOVNA.  35 

madam ;  if  I  had  any,  madam,  I  would  have  come  in  them,  in 
order  to  do  you  more  honour." 

"  I  like  to  see  you  much  better  as  you  are,"  said  Belle ;  "  people 
should  keep  to  their  own  fashions,  and  yours  is  very  pretty." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  pleased  to  think  it  so,  madam ;  it  has 
been  admired  in  the  great  city ;  it  created  what  they  call  a  sensa- 
tion, and  some  of  the  great  ladies,  the  court  ladies,  imitated  it, 
else  I  should  not  appear  in  it  so  often  as  I  am  accustomed ;  for  I 
am  not  very  fond  of  what  is  Roman,  having  an  imagination  that 
what  is  Roman  is  ungenteel ;  in  fact,  I  once  heard  the  wife  of  a 
rich  citizen  say  that  gypsies  were  vulgar  creatures.  I  should  have 
taken  her  saying  very  much  to  heart,  but  for  her  improper  pro- 
nunciation ;  she  could  not  pronounce  her  words,  madam,  which 
we  gypsies,  as  they  call  us,  usually  can,  so  I  thought  she  was  no 
very  high  purchase.  You  are  very  beautiful,  madam,  though  you 
are  not  dressed  as  I  could  wish  to  see  you,  and  your  hair  is  hang- 
ing down  in  sad  confusion ;  allow  me  to  assist  you  in  arranging 
your  hair,  madam  ;  I  will  dress  it  for  you  in  our  fashion  ;  I  would 
fain  see  how  your  hair  would  look  in  our  poor  gypsy  fashion  ;  pray 
allow  me,  madam  ?  "  and  she  took  Belle  by  the  hand. 

"  I  really  can  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Belle,  withdrawing  her 
hand ;  "  I  thank  you  for  coming  to  see  me,  but " 

"  Do  allow  me  to  officiate  upon  your  hair,  madam,"  said  Mrs. 
Petulengro.  "  I  should  esteem  your  allowing  me  a  great  mark  of 
condescension.  You  are  very  beautiful,  madam,  and  I  think  you 
doubly  so,  because  you  are  so  fair ;  I  have  a  great  esteem  for 
persons  with  fair  complexions  and  hair ;  I  have  a  less  regard  for 
people  with  dark  hair  and  complexions,  madam." 

"  Then  why  did  you  turn  off  the  lord,  and  take  up  with  me?" 
said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "that  same  lord  was  fair  enough  all  about 
him." 

"  People  do  when  they  are  young  and  silly  what  they  sometimes 
repent  of  when  they  are  of  riper  years  and  understandings.  I 
sometimes  think  that  had  I  not  been  something  of  a  simpleton,  I 
might  at  this  time  be  a  great  court  lady.  Now,  madam,  said  she, 
again  taking  Belle  by  the  hand,  "  do  oblige  me  by  allowing  me  to 
plait  your  hair  a  little?  " 

"  I  have  really  a  good  mind  to  be  angry  with  you,"  said  Belle, 
giving  Mrs.  Petulengro  a  peculiar  glance. 

"  Do  allow  her  to  arrange  your  hair,"  said  I ;  "  she  means  no 
harm,  and  wishes  to  do  you  honour ;  do  oblige  her  and  me  too, 
for  I  should  like  to  see  how  your  hair  would  look  dressed  in  her 
fashion." 


36  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"You  hear  what  the  young  rye  says?"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro. 
"  I  am  sure  you  will  oblige  the  young  rye,  if  not  myself.  Many 
people  would  be  willing  to  oblige  the  young  rye,  if  he  would  but 
ask  them ;  but  he  is  not  in  the  habit  of  asking  favours.  He  has 
a  nose  of  his  own,  which  he  keeps  tolerably  exalted ;  he  does  not 
think  small  beer  of  himself,  madam ;  and  all  the  time  I  have  been 
with  him,  I  never  heard  him  ask  a  favour  before;  therefore, 
madam,  I  am  sure  you  will  oblige  him.  My  sister  Ursula  would 
be  very  willing  to  oblige  him  in  many  things,  but  he  will  not  ask 
her  for  anything,  except  for  such  a  favour  as  a  word,  which  is  a 
poor  favour  after  all.  I  don't  mean  for  her  word ;  perhaps  he  will 
some  day  ask  you  for  your  word.  If  so ' 

"  Why,  here  you  are,  after  railing  at  me  for  catching  at  words, 
catching  at  a  word  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro.  "  Don't 
interrupt  me  in  my  discourse ;  if  I  caught  at  a  word  now,  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  doing  so.  I  am  no  conceited  body  ;  no  news- 
paper Neddy;  no  pothouse  witty  person.  I  was  about  to  say, 
madam,  that  if  the  young  rye  asks  you  at  any  time  for  your  word, 
you  will  do  as  you  deem  convenient;  but  I  am  sure  you  will 
oblige  him  by  allowing  me  to  braid  your  hair." 

"  I  shall  not  do  it  to  oblige  him,"  said  Belle ;  "  the  young  rye, 
as  you  call  him,  is  nothing  to  me." 

"  Well,  then,  to  oblige  me,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro ;  "do  allow 
me  to  become  your  poor  tire-woman." 

"  It  is  great  nonsense,"  said  Belle,  reddening ;  "  however,  as 
you  came  to  see  me,  and  ask  the  matter  as  a  particular  favour  to 
yourself " 

"Thank  you,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  leading  Belle 
to  the  stool ;  "  please  to  sit  down  here.  Thank  you  ;  your  hair 
is  very  beautiful,  madam,"  she  continued,  as  she  proceeded  to 
braid  Belle's  hair ;  "  so  is  your  countenance.  Should  you  ever 
go  to  the  great  city,  among  the  grand  folks,  you  would  make  a 
sensation,  madam.  I  have  made  one  myself,  who  am  dark ;  the 
chi  she  is  kauley,  which  last  word  signifies  black,  which  I  am  not, 
though  rather  dark.  There's  no  colour  like  white,  madam ;  it's 
so  lasting,  so  genteel.  Gentility  will  carry  the  day,  madam,  even 
with  the  young  rye.  He  will  ask  words  of  the  black  lass,  but  beg 
the  word  of  the  fair." 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Petulengro  and  myself  entered  into 
conversation.  "Any  news  stirring,  Mr.  Petulengro?"  said  I. 
"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  the  great  religious  movements?" 

"Plenty,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;    "all  the  religious  people, 


1825.]  THE  NEWS.  37 

more  especially  the  Evangelicals — those  that  go  about  distribut- 
ing tracts — are  very  angry  about  the  fight  between  Gentleman 
Cooper  and  White-headed  Bob,  which  they  say  ought  not  to  have 
been  permitted  to  take  place ;  and  then  they  are  trying  all  they 
can  to  prevent  the  fight  between  the  lion  and  the  dogs,  which 
they  say  is  a  disgrace  to  a  Christian  country.  Now  I  can't  say 
that  I  have  any  quarrel  with  the  religious  party  and  the  Evan- 
gelicals ;  they  are  always  civil  to  me  and  mine,  and  frequently 
give  us  tracts,  as  they  call  them,  which  neither  I  nor  mine  can 
read ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  approve  of  any  movements, 
religious  or  not,  which  have  in  aim  to  put  down  all  life  and  manly 
sport  in  this  here  country." 

"Anything  else?"  said  I. 

"People  are  becoming  vastly  sharp,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro; 
and  I  am  told  that  all  the  old-fashioned  good-tempered  constables 
are  going  to  be  set  aside,  and  a  paid  body  of  men  to  be 
established,  who  are  not  to  permit  a  tramper  or  vagabond  on  the 
roads  of  England ;  and  talking  of  roads,  puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
strange  story  I  heard  two  nights  ago,  whilst  drinking  some  beer 
at  a  public-house,  in  company  with  my  cousin  Sylvester.  I  had 
asked  Tawno  to  go,  but  his  wife  would  not  let  him.  Just  opposite 
me,  smoking  their  pipes,  were  a  couple  of  men,  something  like 
engineers,  and  they  were  talking  of  a  wonderful  invention  which 
was  to  make  a  wonderful  alteration  in  England ;  inasmuch  as  it 
would  set  aside  all  the  old  roads,  which  in  a  little  time  would  be 
ploughed  up,  and  sowed  with  corn,  and  cause  all  England  to  be 
laid  down  with  iron  roads,  on  which  people  would  go  thundering 
along  in  vehicles,  pushed  forward  by  fire  and  smoke.  Now, 
brother,  when  I  heard  this,  I  did  not  feel  very  comfortable ;  for 
I  thought  to  myself,  what  a  queer  place  such  a  road  would  be  to 
pitch  one's  tent  upon,  and  how  impossible  it  would  be  for  one's 
cattle  to  find  a  bite  of  grass  upon  it ;  and  I  thought  likewise  of 
the  danger  to  which  one's  family  would  be  exposed  of  being  run 
over  and  severely  scorched  by  these  same  flying  fiery  vehicles ;  so 
I  made  bold  to  say,  that  I  hoped  such  an  invention  would  never 
be  countenanced,  because  it  was  likely  to  do  a  great  deal  of  harm. 
Whereupon,  one  of  the  men,  giving  me  a  glance,  said,  without 
taking  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  that  for  his  part,  he  sincerely 
hoped  that  it  would  take  effect ;  and  if  it  did  no  other  good  than 
stopping  the  rambles  of  gypsies,  and  other  like  scamps,  it  ought 
to  be  encouraged.  Well,  brother,  feeling  myself  insulted,  I  put 
my  hand  into  my  pocket,  in  order  to  pull  out  money,  intending 
to  challenge  him  to  fight  for  a  five-shilling  stake,  but  merely 


38  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

found  sixpence,  having  left  all  my  other  money  at  the  tent ; 
which  sixpence  was  just  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  beer  which 
Sylvester  and  myself  were  drinking,  of  whom  I  couldn't  hope  to 
borrow  anything — *  poor  as  Sylvester '  being  a  by-word  amongst 
us.  So,  not  being  able  to  back  myself,  I  held  my  peace,  and  let 
the  gorgio  have  it  all  his  own  way,  who,  after  turning  up  his  nose 
at  me,  went  on  discoursing  about  the  said  invention,  saying  what 
a  fund  of  profit  it  would  be  to  those  who  knew  how  to  make  use 
of  it,  and  should  have  the  laying  down  of  the  new  roads,  and  the 
shoeing  of  England  with  iron.  And  after  he  had  said  this,  and 
much  more  of  the  same  kind,  which  I  cannot  remember,  he  and 
his  companion  got  up  and  walked  away ;  and  presently  I  and 
Sylvester  got  up  and  walked  to  our  camp ;  and  there  I  lay  down 
in  my  tent  by  the  side  of  my  wife,  where  I  had  an  ugly  dream  of 
having  camped  upon  an  iron  road ;  my  tent  being  overturned  by 
a  flying  vehicle ;  my  wife's  leg  injured ;  and  all  my  affairs  put 
into  great  confusion." 

"Now,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro,  "  I  have  braided  your 
hair  in  our  fashion  :  you  look  very  beautiful,  madam ;  more 
beautiful,  if  possible,  than  before."  Belle  now  rose,  and  came 
forward  with  her  tire-woman.  Mr.  Petulengro  was  loud  in  his 
applause,  but  I  said  nothing,  for  I  did  not  think  Belle  was 
improved  in  appearance  by  having  submitted  to  the  ministry  of 
Mrs.  Petulengro's  hand.  Nature  never  intended  Belle  to  appear 
as  a  gypsy ;  she  had  made  her  too  proud  and  serious.  A  more 
proper  part  for  her  was  that  of  a  heroine,  a  queenly  heroine — that 
of  Theresa  of  Hungary,  for  example;  or,  better  still,  that  of 
Brynhilda  the  Valkyrie,  the  beloved  of  Sigurd,  the  serpent -killer, 
who  incurred  the  curse  of  Odin,  because,  in  the  tumult  of  spears, 
she  sided  with  the  young  king,  and  doomed  the  old  warrior  to 
die,  to  whom  Odin  had  promised  victory. 

Belle  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  in  silence ;  then  turning  to 
Mrs.  Petulengro,  she  said:  "You  have  had  your  will  with  me; 
are  you  satisfied?"  "Quite  so,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro, 
11  and  I  hope  you  will  be  so  too,  as  soon  as  you  have  looked  in 
the  glass."  "I  have  looked  in  one  already,"  said  Belle,  "and 
the  glass  does  not  flatter."  "You  mean  the  face  of  the  young 
rye,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro;  "never  mind  him,  madam;  the 
young  rye,  though  he  knows  a  thing  or  two,  is  not  a  university, 
nor  a  person  of  universal  wisdom.  I  assure  you,  that  you  never 
looked  so  well  before ;  and  I  hope  that,  from  this  moment,  you 
will  wear  your  hair  in  this  way."  "  And  who  is  to  braid  it  in  this 
way?"  said  Belle,  smiling.  "  I,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro  ; 


1825.]  BELLE  HERSELF  AGAIN.  39 

"I  will  braid  it  for  you  every  morning,  if  you  will  but  be  per- 
suaded to  join  us.  Do  so,  madam,  and  I  think,  if  you  did,  the 
young  rye  would  do  so  too."  "  The  young  rye  is  nothing  to  me, 
nor  I  to  him,"  said  Belle;  "we  have  stayed  some  time  together, 
but  our  paths  will  soon  be  apart.  Now,  farewell,  for  I  am  about 
to  take  a  journey."  "  And  you  will  go  out  with  your  hair  as  I 
have  braided  it,"  said  Mrs.  Petulengro ;  "  if  you  do,  everybody 
will  be  in  love  with  you."  "No,"  said  Belle;  "hitherto  I  have 
allowed  you  to  do  what  you  please,  but  henceforth  I  shall  have 
my  own  way.  Come,  come,"  said  she,  observing  that  the  gypsy 
was  about  to  speak,  "we  have  had  enough  of  nonsense;  when- 
ever I  leave  this  hollow,  it  will  be  wearing  my  hair  in  my  own 
fashion."  "  Come,  wife,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  we  will  no 
longer  intrude  upon  the  rye  and  rawnie  ;  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
being  troublesome."  Thereupon  Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  wife 
took  their  leave,  with  many  salutations.  "  Then  you  are  going?" 
said  I,  when  Belle  and  I  were  left  alone.  "  Yes,"  said  Belle ;  "  I 
am  going  on  a  journey  ;  my  affairs  compel  me."  "  But  you  will 
return  again?"  said  I.  "Yes,"  said  Belle,  "I  shall  return  once 
more."  "Once  more,"  said  I;  "what  do  you  mean  by  once 
more?  The  Petulengros  will  soon  be  gone,  and  will  you  aban- 
don me  in  this  place?"  "You  were  alone  here,"  said  Belle, 
"  before  I  came,  and,  I  suppose,  found  it  agreeable,  or  you  would 
not  have  stayed  in  it."  "Yes,"  said  I,  "that  was  before  I  knew 
you ;  but  having  lived  with  you  here,  I  should  be  very  loth  to 
live  here  without  you."  "  Indeed,"  said  Belle;  I  did  not  know 
that  I  was  of  so  much  consequence  to  you.  Well,  the  day  is 
wearing  away — I  must  go  and  harness  Traveller  to  the  cart."  "  I 
will  do  that,"  said  I,  "  or  anything  else  you  may  wish  me.  Go 
and  prepare  yourself;  I  will  see  after  Traveller  and  the  cart." 
Belle  departed  to  her  tent,  and  I  set  about  performing  the  task  I 
had  undertaken.  In  about  half  an  hour  Belle  again  made  her 
appearance — she  was  dressed  neatly  and  plainly.  Her  hair  was 
no  longer  in  the  Roman  fashion,  in  which  Pakomovna  had  plaited 
it,  but  was  secured  by  a  comb ;  she  held  a  bonnet  in  her  hand. 
"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  for  you  ? "  I  demanded. 
"  There  are  two  or  three  bundles  by  my  tent,  which  you  can  put 
into  the  cart,"  said  Belle.  I  put  the  bundles  into  the  cart,  and 
then  led  Traveller  and  the  cart  up  the  winding  path  to  the  mouth 
of  the  dingle,  near  which  was  Mr.  Petulengro's  encampment. 
Belle  followed.  At  the  top,  I  delivered  the  reins  into  her  hands  ; 
we  looked  at  each  other  stedfastly  for  some  time.  Belle  then 
departed,  and  I  returned  to  the  dingle,  where,  seating  myself  on 
my  stone,  I  remained  for  upwards  of  an  hour  in  thought. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


ON  the  following  day  there  was  much  feasting  amongst  the  Romany 
chals  of  Mr.  Petulengro's  party.  Throughout  the  forenoon  the 
Romany  chies  did  scarcely  anything  but  cook  flesh,  and  the  flesh 
which  they  cooked  was  swine's  flesh.  About  two  o'clock,  the 
chals  and  chies,  dividing  themselves  into  various  parties,  sat  down 
and  partook  of  the  fare,  which  was  partly  roasted,  partly  sodden. 
I  dined  that  day  with  Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  wife  and  family, 
Ursula,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chikno,  and  Sylvester  and  his  two  children. 
Sylvester,  it  will  be  as  well  to  say,  was  a  widower,  and  had  conse- 
quently no  one  to  cook  his  victuals  for  him,  supposing  he  had  any, 
which  was  not  always  the  case,  Sylvester's  affairs  being  seldom  in  a 
prosperous  state.  He  was  noted  for  his  bad  success  in  trafficking, 
notwithstanding  the  many  hints  which  he  received  from  Jasper, 
under  whose  protection  he  had  placed  himself,  even  as  Tawno 
Chikno  had  done,  who  himself,  as  the  reader  has  heard  on  a 
former  occasion,  was  anything  but  a  wealthy  subject,  though  he 
was  at  all  times  better  off  than  Sylvester,  the  Lazarus  of  the 
Romany  tribe. 

All  our  party  ate  with  a  good  appetite,  except  myself,  who, 
feeling  rather  melancholy  that  day,  had  little  desire  to  eat.  I 
did  not,  like  the  others,  partake  of  the  pork,  but  got  my  dinner 
entirely  off  the  body  of  a  squirrel  which  had  been  shot  the  day 
before  by  a  chal  of  the  name  of  Piramus,  who,  besides  being  a 
good  shot,  was  celebrated  for  his  skill  in  playing  on  the  fiddle. 
During  the  dinner  a  horn  filled  with  ale  passed  frequently  around  ; 
I  drank  of  it  more  than  once,  and  felt  inspirited  by  the  draughts. 
The  repast  concluded,  Sylvester  and  his  children  departed  to  their 
tent,  and  Mr.  Petulengro,  Tawno  and  myself,  getting  up,  went 
and  lay  down  under  a  shady  hedge,  where  Mr.  Petulengro,  light- 
ing his  pipe,  began  to  smoke,  and  where  Tawno  presently  fell 
asleep.  I  was  about  to  fall  asleep  also,  when  I  heard  the  sound 
of  music  and  song.  Piramus  was  playing  on  the  fiddle,  whilst 
Mrs.  Chikno,  who  had  a  voice  of  her  own,  was  singing  in  tones 
sharp  enough,  but  of  great  power,  a  gipsy  song  :— 

(40) 


1825.]  "DRABBING  THE  BAULO."  41 

POISONING  THE  PORKER. 
BY  MRS.  CHIKNO. 

To  mande  shoon  ye  Romany  chals 
Who  besh  in  the  pus  about  the  yag, 
I'll  pen  how  we  drab  the  baulo, 
I'll  pen  how  we  drab  the  baulo. 

We  jaws  to  the  drab-engro  ker, 
Trin  hors-worth  there  of  drab  we  lels, 
And  when  to  the  swety  back  we  wels 
We  pens  we'll  drab  the  baulo, 
We'll  have  a  drab  at  the  baulo. 

And  then  we  kairs  the  drab  opre", 
And  then  we  jaws  to  the  farming  ker, 
To  mang  a  bed  habben, 
A  beti  poggado  habben. 

A  rinkeno  baulo  there  we' dick, 
And  then  we  pens  in  Romano  jib : 
"  Wust  lis  odoi  opre  ye  chick, 
And  the  baulo  he  will  lei  lis, 
The  baulo  he  will  lei  lis  ". 

Coliko,   coliko  saulo  we 
Apopli  to  the  farming  ker 
Will  wel  and  mang  him  mullo, 
Will  wel  and  mang  his  truppo. 

And  so  we  kairs,  and  so  we  kairs ; 
The  baulo  in  the  rarde  mers  ; 
We  mang  him  on  the  saulo, 
And  rig  to  the  tan  the  baulo. 

And  then  we  toves  the  wendror  well 
Till  sore  the  wendror  iuziou  se, 
Till  kekkeno  drab's  adrey  lis, 
Till  drab  there's  kek  adrey  lis. 

And  then  his  truppo  well  we  hatch, 
Kin  levinor  at  the  kitchema, 
And  have  a  kosko  habben, 
A  kosko  Romano  habben. 

The  boshom  engro  kils,  he  kils, 
The  tawnie  juva  gils,  she  gils 
A  puro  Romano  gillie, 
Now  shoon  the  Romano  gillie. 

Which  song  I  had  translated  in  the  following  manner,  in  my 
younger  days,  for  a  lady's  album  : — 

Listen  to  me  ye  Roman  lads,  who  are  seated  in  the  straw  about  the  fire, 
and  I  will  tell  how  we  poison  the  porker,  I  will  tell  how  we  poison  the 
porker. 


42  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

We  go  to  the  house  of  the  poison-monger,*  where  we  buy  three  pennies' 
worth  of  bane,  and  when  we  return  to  our  people,  we  say  we  will  poison 
the  porker ;  we  will  try  and  poison  the  porker. 

We  then  make  up  the  poison,  and  _then  we  take  our  way  to  the  house  of 
the  farmer,  as  if  to  beg  a  bit  of  victuals,  a  little  broken  victuals. 

We  see  a  jolly  porker,  and  then  we  say  in  Roman  language,  "  Fling  the 
bane  yonder  amongst  the  dirt,  and  the  porker  soon  will  find  it,  the  porker 
soon  will  find  it ". 

Early  on  the  morrow,  we  will  return  to  the  farm-house,  and  beg  the 
dead  porker,  the  body  of  the  dead  porker. 

And  so  we  do,  even  so  we  do ;  the  porker  dieth  during  the  night ;  on 
the  morrow  we  beg  the  porker,  and  carry  to  the  tent  the  porker. 

And  then  we  wash  the  inside  well,  till  all  the  inside  is  perfectly  clean, 
till  there's  no  bane  within  it,  not  a  poison  grain  within  it. 

And  then  we  roast  the  body  well,  send  for  ale  to  the  alehouse,  and  have 
a  merry  banquet,  a  merry  Roman  banquet. 

The  fellow  with  the  fiddle  plays,  he  plays ;  the  little  lassie  sings,  she 
sings  an  ancient  Roman  ditty ;  now  hear  the  Roman  ditty. 


SONG  OF  THE  BROKEN  CHASTITY. 
BY  URSULA. 

Penn'd  the  Romany  chi  ke*  laki  dye, 

"Miry  dearie  dye  mi  shorn  cambri  I " 

"  And  coin  kerdo  tute  cambri, 

Miry  dearie  chi,  miry  Romany  chi  ? " 

"  O  miry  dye  a  boro  rye, 

A  bovalo  rye,  a  gorgiko  rye, 

Sos  kistur  pre  a  pellengo  grye, 

'Twas  yov  sos  kerdo  man  cambri." 

"  Tu  tawnie  vassavie  lubbeny, 

Tu  chal  from  miry  tan  abri ; 

Had  a  Romany  chal  kair'd  tute  cambri, 

Then  I  had  penn'd  ke  tute  chie, 

But  tu  shan  a  vassavie  lubbeny 

With  gorgikie  rat  to  be  cambri." 

"There's  some  kernel  in  those  songs,  brother,"  said  Mr. 
Petulengro,  when  the  songs  and  music  were  over. 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "they  are  certainly  very  remarkable  songs. 
[I  translated  both  long  ago  for  a  lady's  album." 

"  A  lady's  what,  brother  ?  " 

"A  lil  in  which  she  kept  bits  of  song  and  poetry  to  show 
occasionally  to  young  ladies." 

*  The  apothecary. 


1825.]  "NECESSITY  HAS  NO  LAW."  43 

"  You  had  no  right  to  do  that,  brother;  you  had  no  right  to 
let  the  ladies  into  the  secrets  of  people  who  took  you  up  when 
you  were  little  better  than  half  a  fool.  But  what  did  the  lady 
say  to  them?  " 

"As  I  have  done  just  now,  that  they  were  remarkable  songs, 
strongly  expressive  of  the  manners  and  peculiarities  of  a  remark- 
able people." 

"  Brother,  she  was  a  gentlewoman,  and  I  forgive  you."] 

"  I  say,  Jasper,  I  hope  you  have  not  been  drabbing  baulor 
lately." 

"And  suppose  we  have,  brother,  what  then?  " 

"Why,  it  is  a  very  dangerous  practice,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
wickedness  of  it." 

"Necessity  has  no  law,  brother." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  I ;  "  I  have  always  said  so,  but  you  are 
not  necessitous,  and  should  not  drab  baulor." 

"  And  who  told  you  we  had  been  drabbing  baulor  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  have  had  a  banquet  of  pork,  and  after  the  banquet, 
Mrs.  Chikno  sang  a  song  about  drabbing  baulor,  so  I  naturally 
thought  you  might  have  lately  been  engaged  in  such  a  thing." 

"Brother,  you  occasionally  utter  a  word  or  two  of  common 
sense.  It  was  natural  for  you  to  suppose,  after  seeing  that  dinner 
of  pork,  and  hearing  that  song,  that  we  had  been  drabbing  baulor ; 
I  will  now  tell  you  that  we  have  not  been  doing  so.  What  have 
you  to  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  very  glad  of  it." 

"  Had  you  tasted  that  pork,  brother,  you  would  have  found 
that  it  was  sweet  and  tasty,  which  balluva  that  is  drabbed  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  be.  We  have  no  reason  to  drab  baulor  at 
present,  we  have  money  and  credit ;  but  necessity  has  no  law. 
Our  forefathers  occasionally  drabbed  baulor ;  some  of  our  people 
may  still  do  such  a  thing,  but  only  from  compulsion." 

"  I  see,"  said  I ;  "  and  at  your  merry  meetings  you  sing  songs 
upon  the  compulsatory  deeds  of  your  people,  alias,  their  villainous 
actions ;  and,  after  all,  what  would  the  stirring  poetry  of  any 
nation  be,  but  for  its  compulsatory  deeds  ?  Look  at  the  poetry 
of  Scotland,  the  heroic  part,  founded  almost  entirely  on  the 
villainous  deeds  of  the  Scotch  nation  ;  cow-stealing,  for  example, 
which  is  very  little  better  than  drabbing  baulor ;  whilst  the  softer 
part  is  mostly  about  the  slips  of  its  females  among  the  broom,  so 
that  no  upholder  of  Scotch  poetry  could  censure  Ursula's  song 
as  indelicate,  even  if  he  understood  it.  What  do  you  thinly 
Jasper?" 


44  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"I  think,  brother,  as  I  before  said,  that  occasionally  you 
utter  a  word  of  common  sense ;  you  were  talking  of  the  Scotch, 
brother ;  what  do  you  think  of  a  Scotchman  finding  fault  with 
Romany  ?  * 

"  A  Scotchman  finding  fault  with  Romany,  Jasper !  Oh  dear, 
but  you  joke,  the  thing  could  never  be." 

"  Yes,  and  at  Piramus's  fiddle ;  what  do  you  think  of  a  Scotch- 
man turning  up  his  nose  at  Piramus's  fiddle  ?  " 

"A  Scotchman  turning  up  his  nose  at  Piramus's  fiddle!  non- 
sense, Jasper." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  most  dislike,  brother  ?  " 
"  I  do  not,  unless  it  be  the  constable,  Jasper." 
11  It  is  not  the  constable  ;  it's  a  beggar  on  horseback,  brother." 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  beggar  on  horseback  ?  " 
"  Why,  a  scamp,  brother,  raised  above  his  proper  place,  who 
takes  every  opportunity  of  giving  himself  fine  airs.  About  a  week 
ago,  my  people  and  myself  camped  on  a  green  by  a  plantation  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  a  great  house.  In  the  evening  we  were 
making  merry,  the  girls  were  dancing,  while  Piramus  was  playing 
on  the  fiddle  a  tune  of  his  own  composing,  to  which  he  has  given 
his  own  name,  Piramus  of  Rome,  and  which  is  much  celebrated 
amongst  our  people,  and  from  which  I  have  been  told  that  one 
of  the  grand  gorgio  composers,  who  once  heard  it,  has  taken 
several  hints.  So,  as  we  were  making  merry,  a  great  many  grand 
people,  lords  and  ladies,  I  believe,  came  from  the  great  house, 
and  looked  on,  as  the  girls  danced  to  the  tune  of  Piramus  of 
Rome,  and  seemed  much  pleased ;  and  when  the  girls  had  left 
off  dancing,  and  Piramus  playing,  the  ladies  wanted  to  have  their 
fortunes  told ;  so  I  bade  Mikailia  Chikno,  who  can  tell  a  fortune 
when  she  pleases  better  than  any  one  else,  tell  them  a  fortune, 
and  she,  being  in  a  good  mind,  told  them  a  fortune  which  pleased 
them  very  much.  So,  after  they  had  heard  their  fortunes,  one 
of  them  asked  if  any  of  our  women  could  sing ;  and  I  told  them 
several  could,  more  particularly  Leviathan — you  know  Leviathan, 
she  is  not  here  now,  but  some  miles  distant ;  she  is  our  best  singer, 
Ursula  coming  next.  So  the  lady  said  she  should  like  to  hear 
Leviathan  sing,  whereupon  Leviathan  sang  the  Gudlo  pesham, 
and  Piramus  played  the  tune  of  the  same  name,  which  as  you 
know,  means  the  honeycomb,  the  song  and  the  tune  being  well 
entitled  to  the  name,  being  wonderfully  sweet.  Well,  everybody 
present  seemed  mighty  well  pleased  with  the  song  and  music,  with 
the  exception  of  one  person,  a  carroty-haired  Scotch  body ;  how 
he  came  there  I  don't  know,  but  there  he  was ;  and,  coming  for- 


1825.]  THE  SCOTCHMAN.  45 

ward,  he  began  in  Scotch  as  broad  as  a  barn-door  to  find  fault 
with  the  music  and  the  song,  saying,  that  he  had  never  heard  viler 
stuff  than  either.  Well,  brother,  out  of  consideration  for  the  civil 
gentry  with  whom  the  fellow  had  come,  I  held  my  peace  for  a  long 
time,  and  in  order  to  get  the  subject  changed,  I  said  to  Mikailia 
in  Romany,  you  have  told  the  ladies  their  fortunes,  now  tell  the 
gentlemen  theirs,  quick,  quick, — pen  lende  dukkerin.  Well, 
brother,  the  Scotchman,  I  suppose,  thinking  I  was  speaking  ill  of 
him,  fell  into  a  greater  passion  than  before,  and  catching  hold  of 
the  word  dukkerin — 'Dukkerin,'  said  he,  'what's  dukkerin?' 
'  Dukkerin,'  said  I,  '  is  fortune,  a  man  or  woman's  destiny  ;  don't 
you  like  the  word  ?  '  '  Word  !  d'ye  ca'  that  a  word  ?  a  bonnie 
word,'  said  he.  '  Perhaps  you'll  tell  us  what  it  is  in  Scotch,'  said 
I,  '  in  order  that  we  may  improve  our  language  by  a  Scotch  word ; 
a  pal  of  mine  has  told  me  that  we  have  taken  a  great  many  words 
from  foreign  lingos.'  'Why,  then,  if  that  be  the  case,  fellow,  I 
will  tell  you ;  it  is  e'en  " spacing," '  said  he  very  seriously.  'Well, 
then,'  said  I,  '  I'll  keep  my  own  word,  which  is  much  the  prettiest 
— spacing !  spacing !  why,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  make  use  of 
the  word,  it  sounds  so  much  like  a  certain  other  word ; '  and  then 
I  made  a  face  as  if  I  were  unwell.  '  Perhaps  it's  Scotch  also  for 
that  ? '  *  What  do  ye  mean  by  speaking  in  that  guise  to  a  gentle- 
man?' said  he,  'you  insolent  vagabond,  without  a  name  or  a 
country.'  'There  you  are  mistaken,'  said  I;  'my  country  is 
Egypt,  but  we  'Gyptians,  like  you  Scotch,  are  rather  fond  of 
travelling;  and  as  for  name — my  name  is  Jasper  Petulengro, 
perhaps  you  have  a  better;  what  is  it?'  'Sandy  Macraw.'  At 
that,  brother,  the  gentlemen  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  all 
the  ladies  tittered." 

"You  were  rather  severe  on  the  Scotchman,  Jasper." 
"  Not  at  all,  brother,  and  suppose  I  were,  he  began  first ;  I  am 
the  civilest  man  in  the  world,  and  never  interfere  with  anybody, 
who  lets  me  and  mine  alone.     He  finds  fault  with  Romany,  for- 
sooth !  why,  L d  A'mighty,  what's  Scotch  ?     He  doesn't  like 

our  songs  ;  what  are  his  own  ?  I  understand  them  as  little  as  he 
mine ;  I  have  heard  one  or  two  of  them,  and  pretty  rubbish  they 
seemed.  But  the  best  of  the  joke  is,  the  fellow's  finding  fault  with 
Piramus's  fiddle — a  chap  from  the  land  of  bagpipes  finding  fault 
with  Piramus's  fiddle  !  Why,  I'll  back  that  fiddle  against  all  the 
bagpipes  in  Scotland,  and  Piramus  against  all  the  bagpipers ;  for 
though  Piramus  weighs  but  ten  stone,  he  shall  flog  a  Scotchman 
of  twenty." 

"Scotchmen  are  never  so  fat  as  that,"  said  I,  "  unless,  indeed, 


46  THE  ROMANY  RYB.  [1895. 

they  have  been  a  long  time  pensioners  of  England.  I  say,  Jasper, 
what  remarkable  names  your  people  have  !  " 

"  And  what  pretty  names,  brother ;  there's  my  own  for  example, 
Jasper ;  then  there's  Ambrose  and  Sylvester ; l  then  there's  Culvato, 
which  signifies  Claude ;  then  there's  Piramus — that's  a  nice  name, 
brother." 

"  Then  there's  your  wife's  name,  Pakomovna ;  then  there's 
Ursula  and  Morella." 

"  Then,  brother,  there's  Ercilla." 

"  Ercilla  !  the  name  of  the  great  poet  of  Spain,  how  wonderful ; 
then  Leviathan." 

"The  name  of  a  ship,  brother;  Leviathan  was  named  after  a 
ship,  so  don't  make  a  wonder  out  of  her.  But  there's  Sanpriel 
and  Synfye." 

"  Ay,  and  Clementina  and  Lavinia,  Camillia  and  Lydia,  Cur- 
landa  and  Orlanda ;  wherever  did  they  get  those  names  ?  " 

"Where  did  my  wife  get  her  necklace,  brother?" 

"  She  knows  best,  Jasper.     I  hope " 

"  Come,  no  hoping  !  She  got  it  from  her  grandmother,  who 
died  at  the  age  of  103,  and  sleeps  in  Coggeshall  churchyard.  She 
got  it  from  her  mother,  who  also  died  very  old,  and  who  could 
give  no  other  account  of  it  than  that  it  had  been  in  the  family 
time  out  of  mind." 

"  Whence  could  they  have  got  it?" 

"  Why,  perhaps  where  they  got  their  names,  brother.  A 
gentleman,  who  had  travelled  much,  once  told  me  that  he  had 
seen  the  sister  of  it  about  the  neck  of  an  Indian  queen." 

"  Some  of  your  names,  Jasper,  appear  to  be  church  names ; 
your  own,  for  example,  and  Ambrose,  and  Sylvester ; 2  perhaps  you 
got  them  from  the  Papists,  in  the  times  of  Popery ;  but  where  did 
you  get  such  a  name  as  Piramus,  a  name  of  Grecian  romance  ? 
Then  some  of  them  appear  to  be  Slavonian  ;  for  example,  Mikailia 
and  Pakomovna.  I  don't  know  much  of  Slavonian  ;  but " 

"  What  is  Slavonian,  brother?" 

"The  family  name  of  certain  nations,  the  principal  of  which 
is  the  Russian,  and  from  which  the  word  slave  is  originally 
derived.  You  have  heard  of  the  Russians,  Jasper  ?  " 

"  Yes,  brother,  and  seen  some.  I  saw  their  crallis  at  the 
time  of  the  peace ;  he  was  not  a  bad-looking  man  for  a  Russian." 

"  By-the-bye,  Jasper,  I'm  half-inclined  to  think  that  crallis  is 
a  Slavish  word.  I  saw  something  like  it  in  a  lil  called  Voltaire's 


1825.]  GYPSY  NAMES.  47 

Life  of  Charles.  How  you  should  have  come  by  such  names  and 
words  is  to  me  incomprehensible." 

"You  seem  posed,  brother." 

"  I  really  know  very  little  about  you,  Jasper." 

"Very  little  indeed,  brother.  We  know  very  little  about 
ourselves ;  and  you  know  nothing,  save  what  we  have  told  you ; 
and  we  have  now  and  then  told  you  things  about  us  which  are 
not  exactly  true,  simply  to  make  a  fool  of  you,  brother.  You  will 
say  that  was  wrong ;  perhaps  it  was.  Well,  Sunday  will  be  here 
in  a  day  or  two,  when  we  will  go  to  church,  where  possibly  we 
shall  hear  a  sermon  on  the  disastrous  consequences  of  lying." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


WHEN  two  days  had  passed,  Sunday  came;  I  breakfasted  by 
myself  in  the  solitary  dingle ;  and  then,  having  set  things  a  little 
to  rights,  I  ascended  to  Mr.  Petulengro's  encampment.  I  could 
hear  church-bells  ringing  around  in  the  distance,  appearing  to  say, 
"  Come  to  church,  come  to  church,"  as  clearly  as  it  was  possible 
for  church-bells  to  say.  I  found  Mr.  Petulengro  seated  by  the 
door  of  his  tent,  smoking  his  pipe,  in  rather  an  ungenteel  undress. 
"Well,  Jasper,"  said  I,  "are  you  ready  to  go  to  church?  for  if 
you  are,  I  am  ready  to  accompany  you."  "  I  am  not  ready, 
brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  nor  is  my  wife;  the  church,  too, 
to  which  we  shall  go  is  three  miles  off;  so  it  is  of  no  use  to  think 
of  going  there  this  morning,  as  the  service  would  be  three-quarters 
over  before  we  got  there ;  if,  however,  you  are  disposed  to  go  in 
the  afternoon,  we  are  your  people."  Thereupon  I  returned  to  my 
dingle,  where  I  passed  several  hours  in  conning  the  Welsh  Bible, 
which  the  preacher,  Peter  Williams,  had  given  me. 

At  last  I  gave  over  reading,  took  a  slight  refreshment,  and 
was  about  to  emerge  from  the  dingle,  when  I  heard  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Petulengro  calling  me.  I  went  up  again  to  the  encampment, 
where  I  found  Mr.  Petulengro,  his  wife,  and  Tawno  Chikno,  ready 
to  proceed  to  church.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Petulengro  were  dressed  in 
Roman  fashion,  though  not  in  the  full-blown  manner  in  which 
they  had  paid  their  visit  to  Isopel  and  myself.  Tawno  had  on  a 
clean  white  slop,  with  a  nearly  new  black  beaver,  with  very  broad 
rims,  and  the  nap  exceedingly  long.  As  for  myself,  I  was  dressed 
in  much  the  same  manner  as  that  in  which  I  departed  from 
London,  having  on,  in  honour  of  the  day,  a  shirt  perfectly  clean, 
having  washed  one  on  purpose  for  the  occasion,  with  my  own 
hands,  the  day  before,  in  the  pond  of  tepid  water  in  which  the 
newts  and  efts  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  their  pleasure.  We 
proceeded  for  upwards  of  a  mile  by  footpaths  through  meadows 
and  cornfields  ;  we  crossed  various  stiles ;  at  last  passing  over  one, 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  road,  wending  along  which  for  a  consider- 
able distance,  we  at  last  came  in  sight  of  a  church,  the  bells  of 

(48) 


1825.]  THE  GYPSIES  AT  CHURCH.  49 

which  had  been  tolling  distinctly  in  our  ears  for  some  time  ;  before, 
however,  we  reached  the  churchyard  the  bells  had  ceased  their 
melody.  It  was  surrounded  by  lofty  beech-trees  of  brilliant  green 
foliage.  We  entered  the  gate,  Mrs.  Petulengro  leading  the 
way,  and  proceeded  to  a  small  door  near  the  east  end  of  the 
church.  As  we  advanced,  the  sound  of  singing  within  the 
church  rose  upon  our  ears.  Arrived  at  the  small  door,  Mrs. 
Petulengro  opened  it  and  entered,  followed  by  Tawno  Chikno. 
I  myself  went  last  of  all,  following  Mr.  Petulengro,  who,  before  I 
entered,  turned  round,  and  with  a  significant  nod,  advised  me  to 
take  care  how  I  behaved.  The  part  of  the  church  which  we  had 
entered  was  the  chancel ;  on  one  side  stood  a  number  of  venerable 
old  men — probably  the  neighbouring  poor — and  on  the  other  a 
number  of  poor  girls  belonging  to  the  village  school,  dressed  in 
white  gowns  and  straw  bonnets,  whom  two  elegant  but  simply 
dressed  young  women  were  superintending.  Every  voice  seemed 
to  be  united  in  singing  a  certain  anthem,  which,  notwithstanding 
it  was  written  neither  by  Tate  nor  Brady,  contains  some  of  the 
sublimest  words  which  were  ever  put  together,  not  the  worst  of 
which  are  those  which  burst  on  our  ears  as  we  entered  : — 

Every  eye  shall  now  behold  Him, 
Robed  in  dreadful  majesty  ; 
Those  who  set  at  nought  and  sold  Him, 
Pierced  and  nailed  Him  to  the  tree, 

Deeply  wailing, 

Shall  the  true  Messiah  see. 

Still  following  Mrs.  Petulengro,  we  proceeded  down  the  chancel 
and  along  the  aisle ;  notwithstanding  the  singing,  I  could  distinctly 
hear  as  we  passed  many  a  voice  whispering :  "  Here  come  the 
gypsies !  here  come  the  gypsies  ! "  I  felt  rather  embarrassed, 
with  a  somewhat  awkward  doubt  as  to  where  we  were  to  sit ;  none 
of  the  occupiers  of  the  pews,  who  appeared  to  consist  almost 
entirely  of  farmers,  with  their  wives,  sons  and  daughters,  opened 
a  door  to  admit  us.  Mrs.  Petulengro,  however,  appeared  to  feel 
not  the  least  embarrassment,  but  tripped  along  the  aisle  with  the 
greatest  nonchalance.  We  passed  under  the  pulpit,  in  which 
stood  the  clergyman  in  his  white  surplice,  and  reached  the  middle 
of  the  church,  where  we  were  confronted  by  the  sexton  dressed 
in  long  blue  coat,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a  wand.  This  function- 
ary motioned  towards  the  lower  end  of  the  church,  where  were 
certain  benches,  partly  occupied  by  poor  people  and  boys.  Mrs. 
Petulengro,  however,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  directed  her  course 

4 


50  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

to  a  magnificent  pew,  which  was  unoccupied,  which  she  opened 
and  entered,  followed  closely  by  Tawno  Chikno,  Mr.  Petulengro, 
and  myself.  The  sexton  did  not  appear  by  any  means  to  approve 
of  the  arrangement,  and  as  I  stood  next  the  door,  laid  his  finger 
on  my  arm,  as  if  to  intimate  that  myself  and  companions  must 
quit  our  aristocratical  location.  I  said  nothing,  but  directed  my 
eyes  to  the  clergyman,  who  uttered  a  short  and  expressive  cough ; 
the  sexton  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then,  bowing  his 
head,  closed  the  door — in  a  moment  more  the  music  ceased.  I 
took  up  a  prayer-book,  on  which  was  engraved  an  earl's  coronet. 
The  clergyman  uttered,  "I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father". 
England's  sublime  liturgy  had  commenced. 

Oh,  what  feelings  came  over  me  on  finding  myself  again  in  an 
edifice  devoted  to  the  religion  of  my  country  !  I  had  not  been  in 
such  a  place  I  cannot  tell  for  how  long — certainly  not  for  years  ; 
and  now  I  had  found  my  way  there  again,  it  appeared  as  if  I  had 

fallen  asleep  in  the  pew  of  the  old  church  of  pretty  D .     I 

had  occasionally  done  so  when  a  child,  and  had  suddenly  woke 
up.  Yes,  surely  I  had  been  asleep  and  had  woke  up ;  but  no  ! 
alas,  no  !  I  had  not  been  asleep — at  least  not  in  the  old  church ; 
if  I  had  been  asleep  I  had  been  walking  in  my  sleep,  struggling, 
striving,  learning  and  unlearning  in  my  sleep.  Years  had  rolled 
away  whilst  I  had  been  asleep — ripe  fruit  had  fallen,  green  fruit 
had  come  on  whilst  I  had  been  asleep — how  circumstances  had 
altered,  and  above  all  myself,  whilst  I  had  been  asleep.  No,  I 
had  not  been  asleep  in  the  old  church  !  I  was  in  a  pew,  it  is  true, 
but  not  the  pew  of  black  leather,  in  which  I  sometimes  fell 
asleep  in  days  of  yore,  but  in  a  strange  pew ;  and  then  my  com- 
panions, they  were  no  longer  those  of  days  of  yore.  I  was  no  longer 
with  my  respectable  father  and  mother,  and  my  dear  brother,  but 
with  the  gypsy  cral  and  his  wife,  and  the  gigantic  Tawno,  the 
Antinous  of  the  dusky  people.  And  what  was  I  myself?  No 
longer  an  innocent  child,  but  a  moody  man,  bearing  in  my  face, 
as  I  knew  well,  the  marks  of  my  strivings  and  strugglings,  of  what 
I  had  learnt  and  unlearnt ;  nevertheless,  the  general  aspect  of 
things  brought  to  my  mind  what  I  had  felt  and  seen  of  yore. 
There  was  difference  enough,  it  is  true,  but  still  there  was  a 
similarity — at  least  I  thought  so — the  church,  the  clergyman  and 

the  clerk,  differing  in  many  respects  from  those  of  pretty  D , 

put  me  strangely  in  mind  of  them  ;  and  then  the  words  ! — by-the- 
bye,  was  it  not  the  magic  of  the  words  which  brought  the  dear 
enchanting  past  so  powerfully  before  the  mind  of  Lavengro  ?  for 
the  words  were  the  same  sonorous  words  of  high  import  which 


\  =^ 


1825.]  THE  SERMON.  51 

had  first  made  an  impression  on  his  childish  ear  in  the  old  church 
of  pretty  D . 

The  liturgy  was  now  over,  during  the  reading  of  which  my 
companions  behaved  in  a  most  unexceptionable  manner,  sitting 
down  and  rising  up  when  other  people  sat  down  and  rose,  and 
holding  in  their  hands  prayer-books  which  they  found  in  the  pew, 
into  which  they  stared  intently,  though  I  observed  that,  with  the 
exception  of  Mrs.  Petulengro,  who  knew  how  to  read  a  little, 
they  held  the  books  by  the  top,  and  not  the  bottom,  as  is  the 
usual  way.  The  clergyman  now  ascended  the  pulpit,  arrayed  in 
in  his  black  gown.  The  congregation  composed  themselves  to 
attention,  as  did  also  my  companions,  who  fixed  their  eyes  upon  the 
clergyman  with  a  certain  strange  immovable  stare,  which  I  believe 
to  be  peculiar  to  their  race.  The  clergyman  gave  out  his  text, 
and  began  to  preach.  He  was  a  tall,  gentlemanly  man,  seemingly 
between  fifty  and  sixty,  with  greyish  hair ;  his  features  were  very 
handsome,  but  with  a  somewhat  melancholy  cast :  the  tones  of 
his  voice  were  rich  and  noble,  but  also  with  somewhat  of  melan- 
choly in  them.  The  text  which  he  gave  out  was  the  following 
one :  "  In  what  would  a  man  be  profited,  provided  he  gained  the 
whole  world,  and  lost  his  own  soul?" 

And  on  this  text  the  clergyman  preached  long  and  well :  he 
did  not  read  his  sermon,  but  spoke  it  extempore ;  his  doing  so 
rather  surprised  and  offended  me  at  first ;  I  was  not  used  to  such 
a  style  of  preaching  in  a  church  devoted  to  the  religion  of  my 
country.  I  compared  it  within  my  mind  with  the  style  of  preach- 
ing used  by  the  high-church  rector  in  the  old  church  of  pretty 

D ,  and  I  thought  to  myself  it  was  very  different,  and  being 

very  different  I  did  not  like  it,  and  I  thought  to  myself  how 

scandalised  the  people  of  D would  have  been  had  they  heard 

it,  and  I  figured  to  myself  how  indignant  the  high-church  clerk 
would  have  been  had  any  clergyman  got  up  in  the  church  of 

D and  preached  in  such  a  manner.  Did  it  not  savour 

strongly  of  dissent,  methodism,  and  similar  low  stuff?  Surely  it 
did ;  why,  the  Methodist  I  had  heard  preach  on  the  heath  above 
the  old  city,  preached  in  the  same  manner — at  least  he  preached 
extempore ;  ay,  and  something  like  the  present  clergyman ;  for 
the  Methodist  spoke  very  zealously  and  with  great  feeling,  and  so 
did  the  present  clergyman ;  so  I,  of  course,  felt  rather  offended 
with  the  clergyman  for  speaking  with  zeal  and  feeling.  However, 
long  before  the  sermon  was  over  I  forgot  the  offence  which  I  had 
taken,  and  listened  to  the  sermon  with  much  admiration,  for  the 
eloquence  and  powerful  reasoning  with  which  it  abounded. 


5a  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

Oh,  how  eloquent  he  was,  when  he  talked  of  the  inestimable 
value  of  a  man's  soul,  which  he  said  endured  for  ever,  whilst  his 
body,  as  every  one  knew,  lasted  at  most  for  a  very  contemptible 
period  of  time ;  and  how  forcibly  he  reasoned  on  the  folly  of  a 
man,  who,  for  the  sake  of  gaining  the  whole  world — a  thing,  he 
said,  which  provided  he  gained  he  could  only  possess  for  a  part 
of  the  time,  during  which  his  perishable  body  existed — should 
lose  his  soul,  that  is,  cause  that  precious  deathless  portion  of  him 
to  suffer  indescribable  misery  time  without  end. 

There  was  one  part  of  his  sermon  which  struck  me  in  a  very 
particular  manner  ;  he  said  :  "  That  there  were  some  people  who 
gained  something  in  return  for  their  souls ;  if  they  did  not  get  the 
whole  world,  they  got  a  part  of  it — lands,  wealth,  honour,  or 
renown  ;  mere  trifles,  he  allowed,  in  comparison  with  the  value  of 
a  man's  soul,  which  is  destined  either  to  enjoy  delight  or  suffer 
tribulation  time  without  end ;  but  which,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
worldly,  had  a  certain  value,  and  which  afforded  a  certain 
pleasure  and  satisfaction.  But  there  were  also  others  who  lost 
their  souls,  and  got  nothing  for  them—neither  lands,  wealth, 
renown,  nor  consideration,  who  were  poor  outcasts,  and  despised 
by  everybody.  My  friends,"  he  added,  "if  the  man  is  a  fool 
who  barters  his  soul  for  the  whole  world,  what  a  fool  he  must  be 
who  barters  his  soul  for  nothing." 

The  eyes  of  the  clergyman,  as  he  uttered  these  words, 
wandered  around  the  whole  congregation ;  and  when  he  had 
concluded  them,  the  eyes  of  the  whole  congregation  were  turned 
upon  my  companions  and  myself. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  service  over,  my  companions  and  myself  returned  towards 
the  encampment  by  the  way  we  came.  Some  of  the  humble 
part  of  the  congregation  laughed  and  joked  at  us  as  we  passed. 
Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  wife,  however,  returned  their  laughs  and 
jokes  with  interest.  As  for  Tawno  and  myself,  we  said  nothing  : 
Tawno,  like  most  handsome  fellows,  having  very  little  to  say  for 
himself  at  any  time ;  and  myself,  though  not  handsome,  not 
being  particularly  skilful  at  repartee.  Some  boys  followed  us  for 
a  considerable  time,  making  all  kinds  of  observations  about 
gypsies ;  but  as  we  walked  at  a  great  pace,  we  gradually  left  them 
behind,  and  at  last  lost  sight  of  them.  Mrs.  Petulengro  and 
Tawno  Chikno  walked  together,  even  as  they  had  come;  whilst 
Mr.  Petulengro  and  myself  followed  at  a  little  distance. 

"  That  was  a  very  fine  preacher  we  heard,"  said  I  to  Mr. 
Petulengro,  after  we  had  crossed  the  stile  into  the  fields. 

"Very  fine  indeed,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "he  is 
talked  of  far  and  wide  for  his  sermons ;  folks  say  that  there  is 
scarcely  another  like  him  in  the  whole  of  England." 

"  He  looks  rather  melancholy,  Jasper." 

"  He  lost  his  wife  several  years  ago,  who,  they  say,  was  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  women  ever  seen.  They  say  that  it  was  grief 
for  her  loss  that  made  him  come  out  mighty  strong  as  a  preacher; 
for,  though  he  was  a  clergyman,  he  was  never  heard  of  in  the 
pulpit  before  he  lost  his  wife ;  since  then,  the  whole  country  has 

rung  with  the  preaching  of  the  clergyman  of  M as  they  call 

him.  Those  two  nice  young  gentlewomen,  whom  you  saw  with 
the  female  childer,  are  his  daughters." 

"You  seem  to  know  all  about  him,  Jasper.  Did  you  ever 
hear  him  preach  before?" 

"  Never,  brother ;  but  he  has  frequently  been  to  our  tent,  and 
his  daughters  too,  and  given  us  tracts ;  for  he  is  one  of  the  people 
they  call  Evangelicals,  who  give  folks  tracts  which  they  cannot 
read." 

"You  should  learn  to  read,  Jasper." 
(53) 


54  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [18*5. 

"  We  have  no  time,  brother." 

"  Are  you  not  frequently  idle  ?  " 

"  Never,  brother ;  when  we  are  not  engaged  in  our  traffic,  we 
are  engaged  in  taking  our  relaxation  :  so  we  have  no  time  to 
learn." 

"  You  really  should  make  an  effort.  If  you  were  disposed  to 
learn  to  read,  I  would  endeavour  to  assist  you.  You  would  be 
all  the  better  for  knowing  how  to  read." 

"In  what  way,  brother?" 

"Why,  you  could  read  the  Scriptures,  and,  by  so  doing,  learn 
your  duty  towards  your  fellow-creatures." 

"We  know  that  already,  brother;  the  constables  and  justices 
have  contrived  to  knock  that  tolerably  into  our  heads." 

"  Yet  you  frequently  break  the  laws." 

"So,  I  believe,  do  now  and  then  those  who  know  how  to 
read,  brother." 

"Very  true,  Jasper;  but  you  really  ought  to  learn  to  read,  as, 
by  so  doing,  you  might  learn  your  duty  towards  yourselves:  and 
your  chief  duty  is  to  take  care  of  your  own  souls ;  did  not  the 
preacher  say :  '  In  what  is  a  man  profited,  provided  he  gain  the 
whole  world  ? '  " 

"  We  have  not  much  of  the  world,  brother." 

"  Very  little  indeed,  Jasper.  Did  you  not  observe  how  the  eyes 
of  the  whole  congregation  were  turned  towards  our  pew  when  the 
preacher  said  :  '  There  are  some  people  who  lose  their  souls,  and 
get  nothing  in  exchange;  who  are  outcast,  despised,  and  miser- 
able'? Now  was  not  what  he  said  quite  applicable  to  the 
gypsies?" 

"  We  are  not  miserable,  brother." 

"  Well,  then,  you  ought  to  be,  Jasper.  Have  you  an  inch  of 
ground  of  your  own  ?  Are  you  of  the  least  use  ?  Are  you  not 
spoken  ill  of  by  everybody  ?  What's  a  gypsy  ?  " 

"  What's  the  bird  noising  yonder,  brother  ?  " 

"The  bird!  oh,  that's  the  cuckoo  tolling;  but  what  has  the 
cuckoo  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  " 

"  We'll  see,  brother ;  what's  the  cuckoo  ?  " 

"What  is  it?  you  know  as  much  about  it  as  myself,  Jasper." 

"  Isn't  it  a  kind  of  roguish,  chaffing  bird,  brother?  " 

"I  believe  it  is,  Jasper." 

"  Nobody  knows  whence  it  comes,  brother." 

"  I  believe  not,  Jasper." 

"  Very  poor,  brother,  not  a  nest  of  its  own  ?" 

11  So  they  say,  Jasper." 


1825.]  CUCKOO  AND  GYPSY.  53 

"With  every  person's  bad  word,  brother?" 

"  Yes,  Jasper ;  every  person  is  mocking  it." 

"Tolerably  merry,  brother?" 

"Yes,  tolerably  merry,  Jasper." 

"  Of  no  use  at  all,  brother?  " 

"  None  whatever,  Jasper." 

"  You  would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  cuckoos,  brother?" 

"Why,  not  exactly,  Jasper;  the  cuckoo  is  a  pleasant,  funny 
bird,  and  its  presence  and  voice  give  a  great  charm  to  the  green 
trees  and  fields ;  no,  I  can't  say  I  wish  exactly  to  get  rid  of  the 
cuckoo." 

"  Well,  brother,  what's  a  Romany  chal  ?  " 

"  You  must  answer  that  question  yourself,  Jasper." 

"A  roguish,  chaffing  fellow  ;  a'n't  he,  brother?" 

"Ay,  ay,  Jasper." 

"  Of  no  use  at  all,  brother  ?  " 

"  Just  so  Jasper;  I  see " 

11  Something  very  much  like  a  cuckoo,  brother  ?  " 

"  I  see  what  you  are  after,  Jasper." 

"  You  would  like  to  get  rid  of  us,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Why  no  ;  not  exactly." 

"  We  are  no  ornament  to  the  green  lanes  in  spring  and  sum- 
mer time  ;  are  we,  brother  ?  and  the  voices  of  our  chies,  with  their 
cukkerin  and  dukkerin,  don't  help  to  make  them  pleasant?" 

"  I  see  what  you  are  at,  Jasper." 

"  You  would  wish  to  turn  the  cuckoos  into  barn-door  fowls, 
wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Can't  say  I  should,  Jasper,  whatever  some  people  might 
wish." 

"And  the  chals  and  chies  into  radical  weavers  and  factory 
wenches  ;  hey,  brother  ?  " 

"Can't  say  that  I  should,  Jasper.  You  are  certainly  a 
picturesque  people,  and  in  many  respects  an  ornament  both  to 
town  and  country ;  painting  and  lil  writing  too  are  under  great 
obligations  to  you.  What  pretty  pictures  are  made  out  of  your 
campings  and  groupings,  and  what  pretty  books  have  been 
written  in  which  gypsies,  or  at  least  creatures  intended  to 
represent  gypsies,  have  been  the  principal  figures.  I  think  if  we 
were  without  you,  we  should  begin  to  miss  you." 

"Just  as  you  would  the  cuckoos,  if  they  were  all  converted 
into  barn-door  fowls.  I  tell  you  what,  brother ;  frequently,  as  I 
have  sat  under  a  hedge  in  spring  or  summer  time,  and  heard  the 
cuckoo,  I  have  thought  that  we  chals  and  cuckoos  are  alike  in 


56  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

many  respects,  but  especially  in  character.  Everybody  speaks  ill 
of  us  both,  and  everybody  is  glad  to  see  both  of  us  again." 

"Yes,  Jasper,  but  there  is  some  difference  between  men  and 
cuckoos ;  men  have  souls,  Jasper !  " 

"And  why  not  cuckoos,  brother?" 

"  You  should  not  talk  so,  Jasper  ;  what  you  say  is  little  short 
of  blasphemy.  How  should  a  bird  have  a  soul  ?  " 

"  And  how  should  a  man  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  know  very  well  that  a  man  has  a  soul." 

*  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

'  We  know  very  well." 

'  Would  you  take  your  oath  of  it,  brother — your  bodily  oath  ?  " 

1  Why,  I  think  I  might,  Jasper ! " 

'  Did  you  ever  see  the  soul,  brother  ?  " 

"No,  I  never  saw  it." 

"  Then  how  could  you  swear  to  it  ?  A  pretty  figure  you  would 
make  in  a  court  of  justice,  to  swear  to  a  thing  which  you  never  saw. 
'  Hold  up  your  head,  fellow.  When  and  where  did  you  see  it  ? 
Now  upon  your  oath,  fellow,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  Roman 
stole  the  donkey's  foal  ? '  Oh,  there's  no  one  for  cross-question- 
ing like  Counsellor  P .  Our  people  when  they  are  in  a 

hobble  always  like  to  employ  him,  though  he  is  somewhat  dear. 
Now,  brother,  how  can  you  get  over  the  *  upon  your  oath,  fellow, 
will  you  say  that  you  have  a  soul  ? ' " 

"  Well,  we  will  take  no  oaths  on  the  subject ;  but  you  yourself 
believe  in  the  soul.  I  have  heard  you  say  that  you  believe  in 
dukkerin  ;  now  what  is  dukkerin  but  the  soul  science  ?  " 

"  When  did  I  say  that  I  believed  in  it? " 

"  Why,  after  that  fight,  when  you  pointed  to  the  bloody  mark 
in  the  cloud,  whilst  he  you  wot  of  was  galloping  in  the  barouche 
to  the  old  town,  amidst  the  rain-cataracts,  the  thunder  and  flame 
of  heaven." 

"  I  have  some  kind  of  remembrance  of  it,  brother." 

"Then,  again,  I  heard  you  say  that  the  dook  of  Abershaw 
rode  every  night  on  horseback  down  the  wooded  hill." 

"  I  say,  brother,  what  a  wonderful  memory  you  have  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  had  not,  Jasper;  but  I  can't  help  it,  it  is  my  mis- 
fortune." 

"  Misfortune !  well,  perhaps  it  is ;  at  any  rate  it  is  very  ungen- 
teel  to  have  such  a  memory.  I  have  heard  my  wife  say  that  to 
show  you  have  a  long  memory  looks  very  vulgar ;  and  that  you 
can't  give  a  greater  proof  of  gentility  than  by  forgetting  a  thing  as 
soon  as  possible — more  especially  a  promise,  or  an  acquaintance 


1825.]  SPIRITUAL  DISCOURSE.  37 

when  he  happens  to  be  shabby.  Well,  brother,  I  don't  deny  that 
I  may  have  said  that  I  believe  in  dukkerin,  and  in  Abershaw's 
dook,  which  you  say  is  his  soul ;  but  what  I  believe  one  moment, 
or  say  I  believe,  don't  be  certain  that  I  shall  believe  the  next,  or 
say  I  do." 

"  Indeed,  Jasper,  I  heard  you  say  on  a  previous  occasion,  on 
quoting  a  piece  of  a  song,  that  when  a  man  dies  he  is  cast  into 
the  earth,  and  there's  an  end  of  him." 

"  I  did,  did  I  ?  Lor',  what  a  memory  you  have,  brother.  But 
you  are  not  sure  that  I  hold  that  opinion  now." 

"  Certainly  not,  Jasper.  Indeed,  after  such  a  sermon  as  we 
have  been  hearing,  I  should  be  very  shocked  if  you  held  such  an 
opinion." 

"  However,  brother,  don't  be  sure  I  do  not,  however  shocking 
such  an  opinion  may  be  to  you." 

"  What  an  incomprehensible  people  you  are,  Jasper.'' 

"We  are  rather  so,  brother;  indeed,  we  have  posed  wiser 
heads  than  yours  before  now." 

"You  seem  to  care  for  so  little,  and  yet  you  rove  about  a 
distinct  race." 

"  I  say,  brother  !  " 

"Yes,  Jasper." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  our  women  ?  " 

"  They  have  certainly  very  singular  names,  Jasper." 

"Names!  Lavengro  !  However,  brother,  if  you  had  been  as 
fond  of  things  as  of  names,  you  would  never  have  been  a  pal  of 
ours." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Jasper?" 

"  A'n't  they  rum  animals?  " 

"  They  have  tongues  of  their  own,  Jasper." 

"Did  you  ever  feel  their  teeth  and  nails,  brother?" 

"  Never,  Jasper,  save  Mrs.  Herne's.  I  have  always  been  very 
civil  to  them,  so " 

"  They  let  you  alone.  I  say,  brother,  some  part  of  the  secret 
is  in  them." 

"  They  seem  rather  flighty,  Jasper." 

"  Ay,  ay,  brother !  " 

"  Rather  fond  of  loose  discourse !  " 

"  Rather  so,  brother." 

"  Can  you  always  trust  them,  Jasper  !  " 

**  We  never  watch  them,  brother." 

"  They  can  always  trust  you  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  so  well  as  we  can  them.     However,  we  get  on 


58  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1835. 

very  well  together,  except  Mikailia  and  her  husband ;  but  Mikailia 
is  a  cripple,  and  is  married  to  the  beauty  of  the  world,  so  she  may 
be  expected  to  be  jealous — though  he  would  not  part  with  her  for 
a  duchess,  no  more  than  I  would  part  with  my  rawnie,  nor  any 
other  chal  with  his." 

"Ay,  but  would  not  the  chi  part  with  the  chal  for  a  duke, 
Jasper?" 

"My  Pakomovna  gave  up  the  duke  for  me,  brother?" 

"  But  she  occasionally  talks  of  him,  Jasper." 

"Yes,  brother,  but  Pakomovna  was  born  on  a  common  not 
far  from  the  sign  of  the  gammon." 

"Gammon  of  bacon,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  brother;  but  gammon  likewise  means " 

"  I  know  it  does,  Jasper ;  it  means  fun,  ridicule,  jest ;  it  is  an 
ancient  Norse  word,  and  is  found  in  the  Edda." 

"  Lor',  brother  !  how  learned  in  lils  you  are  ! " 

"  Many  words  of  Norse  are  to  be  found  in  our  vulgar  sayings, 
Jasper;  for  example — in  that  particularly  vulgar  saying  of  ours, 
'Your  mother  is  up,'  there's  a  noble  Norse  word;  mother, 
there,  meaning  not  the  female  who  bore  us,  but  rage  and  choler, 
as  I  discovered  by  reading  the  Sagas,  Jasper." 

"Lor',  brother!  how  book-learned  you  be." 

"  Indifferently  so,  Jasper.  Then  you  think  you  might  trust 
your  wife  with  the  duke?" 

"  I  think  I  could,  brother,  or  even  with  yourself." 

"  Myself,  Jasper  !  Oh,  I  never  troubled  my  head  about  your 
wife  ;  but  I  suppose  there  have  been  love  affairs  between  gorgios 
and  Romany  chies.  Why,  novels  are  stuffed  with  such  matters  ; 
and  then  even  one  of  your  own  songs  say  so — the  song  which 
Ursula  was  singing  the  other  afternoon." 

"  That  is  somewhat  of  an  old  song,  brother,  and  is  sung  by 
the  chies  as  a  warning  at  our  solemn  festivals." 

"  Well !  but  there's  your  sister-in-law,  Ursula  herself,  Jasper." 

"  Ursula  herself,  brother?" 

"You  were  talking  of  my  having  her,  Jasper." 

"  Well,  brother,  why  didn't  you  have  her?" 

"  Would  she  have  had  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  brother.  You  are  so  much  of  a  Roman,  and 
speak  Romany  so  remarkably  well." 

"  Poot  thing  !  she  looks  very  innocent !  " 

"  Remarkably  so,  brother !  however,  though  not  born  on  the 
same  common  with  my  wife,  she  knows  a  thing  or  two  of  Roman 
matters." 


1823.]  THAT  SONG.  59 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  her  a  question  or  two,  Jasper,  in  con- 
nection with  that  song." 

"  You  can  do  no  better,  brother.  Here  we  are  at  the  camp. 
After  tea,  take  Ursula  under  a  hedge,  and  ask  her  a  question  or 
two  in  connection  with  that  song." 


CHAPTER  X. 

I  TOOK  tea  that  evening  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Petulengro  and  Ursula, 
outside  of  their  tent.  Tawno  was  not  present,  being  engaged 
with  his  wife  in  his  own  tabernacle ;  Sylvester  was  there,  however, 
lolling  listlessly  upon  the  ground.  As  I  looked  upon  this  man,  I 
thought  him  one  of  the  most  disagreeable  fellows  I  had  ever  seen. 
His  features  were  ugly,  and,  moreover,  as  dark  as  pepper ;  and, 
besides  being  dark,  his  skin  was  dirty.  As  for  his  dress,  it  was 
torn  and  sordid.  His  chest  was  broad,  and  his  arms  seemed 
powerful ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  he  looked  a  very  caitiff.  "  I  am 
sorry  that  man  has  lost  his  wife,"  thought  I ;  "  for  I  am  sure  he 
will  never  get  another.  What  surprises  me  is,  that  he  ever  found 
a  woman  disposed  to  unite  her  lot  with  his  ! " 

After  tea  I  got  up  and  strolled  about  the  field.  My  thoughts 
were  upon  Isopel  Berners.  I  wondered  where  she  was,  and  how 
long  she  would  stay  away.  At  length,  becoming  tired  and  listless, 
I  determined  to  return  to  the  dingle,  and  resume  the  reading  of 
the  Bible  at  the  place  where  I  had  left  off.  "  What  better  could 
I  do,"  methought,  "on  a  Sunday  evening ?"  I  was  then  near 
the  wood  which  surrounded  the  dingle,  but  at  that  side  which 
was  farthest  from  the  encampment,  which  stood  near  the  entrance. 
Suddenly,  on  turning  round  the  southern  corner  of  the  copse, 
which  surrounded  the  dingle,  I  perceived  Ursula  seated  under  a 
thorn  bush.  I  thought  I  never  saw  her  look  prettier  than  then, 
dressed  as  she  was  in  her  Sunday's  best. 

"  Good-evening,  Ursula,"  said  I ;  "  I  little  thought  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  here." 

"  Nor  would  you,  brother,"  said  Ursula,  "  had  not  Jasper  told 
me  that  you  had  been  talking  about  me,  and  wanted  to  speak  to 
me  under  a  hedge ;  so,  hearing  that,  I  watched  your  motions  and 
came  here  and  sat  down." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  going  to  my  quarters  in  the  dingle,  to  read 
the  Bible,  Ursula,  but  - 

"Oh,  pray  then,  go  to  your  quarters,  brother,  and  read  the 
Miduveleskoe  lil ;  you  can  speak  to  me  under  a  hedge  some  other 
time." 

(60) 


1825.]  UNDER  THE  HEDGE.  61 

"  I  think  I  will  sit  down  with  you,  Ursula  ;  for,  after  all,  read- 
ing godly  books  in  dingles  at  eve  is  rather  sombre  work.  Yes,  I 
think  I  will  sit  down  with  you ;  "  and  I  sat  down  by  her  side. 

"  Well,  brother,  now  you  have  sat  down  with  me  under  the 
hedge,  what  have  you  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  hardly  know,  Ursula." 

"  Not  know,  brother  ;  a  pretty  fellow  you  to  ask  young  women 
to  come  and  sit  with  you  under  hedges,  and,  when  they  come,  not 
know  what  to  say  to  them." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  I  remember ;  do  you  know,  Ursula,  that  I  take  a 
great  interest  in  you  ?  " 

"Thank  ye,  brother  ;  kind  of  you,  at  any  rate." 

"  You  must  be  exposed  to  a  great  many  temptations,  Ursula." 

"  A  great  many  indeed,  brother.  It  is  hard  to  see  fine  things, 
such  as  shawls,  gold  watches  and  chains  in  the  shops,  behind  the 
big  glasses,  and  to  know  that  they  are  not  intended  for  one. 
Many's  the  time  I  have  been  tempted  to  make  a  dash  at  them  ; 
but  I  bethought  myself  that  by  so  doing  I  should  cut  my  hands, 
besides  being  almost  certain  of  being  grabbed  and  sent  across  the 
gull's  bath  to  the  foreign  country." 

"  Then  you  think  gold  and  fine  things  temptations,  Ursula?  " 

"  Of  course,  brother,  very  great  temptations  ;  don't  you  think 
them  so?  " 

"  Can't  say  I  do,  Ursula." 

"  Then  more  fool  you,  brother ;  but  have  the  kindness  to  tell 
me  what  you  would  call  a  temptation  ?  " 

"Why,  for  example,  the  hope  of  honour  and  renown,  Ursula." 

"  The  hope  of  honour  and  renown  !  very  good,  brother  ;  but 
I  tell  you  one  thing,  that  unless  you  have  money  in  your  pocket, 
and  good  broad-cloth  on  your  back,  you  are  not  likely  to  obtain 
much  honour  and — what  do  you  call  it  ?  amongst  the  gorgios,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  Romany  chals." 

"  I  should  have  thought,  Ursula,  that  the  Romany  chals, 
roaming  about  the  world  as  they  do,  free  and  independent,  were 
above  being  led  by  such  trifles." 

"  Then  you  know  nothing  of  the  gypsies,  brother ;  no  people 
on  earth  are  fonder  of  those  trifles,  as  you  call  them,  than  the 
Romany  chals,  and  more  disposed  to  respect  those  who  have 
them." 

"  Then  money  and  fine  clothes  would  induce  you  to  anything, 
Ursula?  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  brother,  anything." 

"To  chore,  Ursula?" 


62  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  Like  enough,  brother  ;  gypsies  have  been  transported 
before  now  for  choring." 

"  To  hokkawar?" 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  I  was  telling  dukkerin  only  yesterday,  brother." 

"  In  fact,  to  break  the  law  in  everything  ?  " 

"  Who  knows,  brother,  who  knows  ?  As  I  said  before,  gold  and 
fine  clothes  are  great  temptations." 

"  Well,  Ursula,  I  am  sorry  for  it,  I  should  never  have  thought 
you  so  depraved." 

"  Indeed,  brother." 

"  To  think  that  I  am  seated  by  one  who  is  willing  to — to " 

"  Go  on,  brother." 

"  To  play  the  thief." 

"Go  on,  brother." 

"  The  liar." 

"  Go  on,  brother." 

"  The— the " 

"  Go  on,  brother." 

11  The— the  lubbeny." 

"  The  what,  brother?  "  said  Ursula,  starting  from  her  seat. 

"  Why,  the  lubbeny  ;  don't  you " 

"I  tell  you  what,  brother,"  said  Ursula,  looking  somewhat 
pale,  and  speaking  very  low,  "if  I  had  only  something  in  my 
hand,  I  would  do  you  a  mischief." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Ursula?"  said  I;  "how  have  I 
offended  you  ?  " 

"  How  have  you  offended  me  ?  Why,  didn't  you  insinivate 
just  now  that  I  was  ready  to  play  the  — the " 

"Go  on,  Ursula." 

"  The — the I'll  not  say  it ;  but  I  only  wish  I  had  some- 
thing in  my  hand." 

"  If  I  have  offended,  Ursula,  I  am  very  sorry  for  it ;  any  offence 
I  may  have  given  you  was  from  want  of  understanding  you. 
Come,  pray  be  seated,  I  have  much  to  question  you  about — to 
talk  to  you  about." 

"Seated,  not  I !  It  was  only  just  now  that  you  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  you  was  ashamed  to  be  seated  by  me,  a  thief,  a  liar." 

"Well,  did  you  not  almost  give  me  to  understand  that  you 
were  both,  Ursula  ?  " 

"  I  don't  much  care  being  called  a  thief  and  a  liar,"  said 
Ursula;  "a  person  may  be  a  liar  and  a  thief,  and  yet  a  very 
honest  woman,  but  •  " 

11  Well,  Ursula." 


1825.]  RUM  CONVERSATION.  63 

"  I  tell  you  what,  brother,  if  you  ever  sinivate  again  that  I 
could  be  the  third  thing,  so  help  me  duvel !  I'll  do  you  a  mis- 
chief. By  my  God  I  will !  " 

"  Well,  Ursula,  I  assure  you  that  I  shall  sinivate,  as  you  call 
it,  nothing  of  the  kind  about  you.  I  have  no  doubt,  from  what 
you  have  said,  that  you  are  a  very  paragon  of  virtue — a  perfect 
Lucretia  ;  but " 

"  My  name  is  Ursula,  brother,  and  not  Lucretia  :  Lucretia  is 
not  of  our  family,  but  one  of  the  Bucklands  ;  she  travels  about 
Oxfordshire ;  yet  I  am  as  good  as  she  any  day." 

"  Lucretia  !  how  odd  !  Where  could  she  have  got  that  name  ? 
Well,  I  make  no  doubt,  Ursula,  that  you  are  quite  as  good  as 
she,  and  she  as  her  namesake  of  ancient  Rome ;  but  there  is  a 
mystery  in  this  same  virtue,  Ursula,  which  I  cannot  fathom ;  how 
a  thief  and  a  liar  should  be  able,  or  indeed  willing,  to  preserve 
her  virtue  is  what  I  don't  understand.  You  confess  that  you  are 
very  fond  of  gold.  Now,  how  is  it  that  you  don't  barter  your 
virtue  for  gold  sometimes  ?  I  am  a  philosopher,  Ursula,  and  like 
to  know  everything.  You  must  be  every  now  and  then  exposed 
to  great  temptation,  Ursula ;  for  you  are  of  a  beauty  calculated  to 
captivate  all  hearts.  Come,  sit  down  and  tell  me  how  you  are 
enabled  to  resist  such  a  temptation  as  gold  and  fine  clothes?" 

"Well,  brother,"  said  Ursula,  "as  you  say  you  mean  no 
harm,  I  will  sit  down  beside  you,  and  enter  into  discourse  with 
you ;  but  I  will  uphold  that  you  are  the  coolest  hand  that  I  ever 
came  nigh,  and  say  the  coolest  things." 

And  thereupon  Ursula  sat  down  by  my  side. 

"  Well,  Ursula,  we  will,  if  you  please,  discourse  on  the  subject 
of  your  temptations.  I  suppose  that  you  travel  very  much  about, 
and  show  yourself  in  all  kinds  of  places  ?  " 

"In  all  kinds,  brother;  I  travels,  as  you  say,  very  much 
about,  attends  fairs  and  races,  and  enters  booths  and  public- 
houses,  where  I  tells  fortunes,  and  sometimes  dances  and  sings." 

"And  do  not  people  often  address  you  in  a  very  free 
manner  ?  " 

'  Frequently,  brother ;  and  I  give  them  tolerably  free  answers." 

"Do  people  ever  offer  to  make  you  presents?  I  mean 
presents  of  value,  such  as " 

"Silk  handkerchiefs,  shawls  and  trinkets;  very  frequently, 
brother." 

"  And  what  do  you  do,  Ursula  ?  " 

"  I  takes  what  people  offers  me,  brother,  and  stows  it  away  as 
•oon  as  I  can." 


64  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  Well,  but  don't  people  expect  something  for  their  presents  ? 
I  don't  mean  dukkerin,  dancing  and  the  like ;  but  such  a  moderate 
and  innocent  thing  as  a  choomer,  Ursula  ?  " 

"  Innocent  thing,  do  you  call  it,  brother?  " 

"The  world  calls  it  so,  Ursula.  Well,  do  the  people  who 
give  you  the  fine  things  never  expect  a  choomer  in  return  ?  " 

"  Very  frequently,  brother." 

"  And  do  you  ever  grant  it  ?  " 

"  Never,  brother." 

"  How  do  you  avoid  it  ?  " 

"  I  gets  away  as  soon  as  possible,  brother.  If  they  follows 
me,  I  tries  to  baffle  them  by  means  of  jests  and  laughter  ;  and  if 
they  persist,  I  uses  bad  and  terrible  language,  of  which  I  have 
plenty  in  store." 

"  But  if  your  terrible  language  has  no  effect  ?  " 

"  Then  I  screams  for  the  constable,  and  if  he  comes  not,  I 
uses  my  teeth  and  nails." 

"  And  are  they  always  sufficient?" 

"I  have  only  had  to  use  them  twice,  brother;  but  then  I 
found  them  sufficient." 

"  But  suppose  the  person  who  followed  you  was  highly  agree- 
able, Ursula?  A  handsome  young  officer  of  local  militia,  for 
example,  all  dressed  in  Lincoln  green,  would  you  still  refuse  him 
the  choomer  ?  " 

"We  makes  no  difference,  brother;  the  daughters  of  the 
gypsy  father  makes  no  difference  ;  and  what's  more,  sees  none." 

"  Well,  Ursula,  the  world  will  hardly  give  you  credit  for  such 
indifference." 

"What  cares  we  for  the  world,  brother !  we  are  not  of  the  world." 

"  But  your  fathers,  brothers  and  uncles  give  you  credit,  I 
suppose,  Ursula." 

"  Ay,  ay,  brother,  our  fathers,  brothers  and  cokos  gives  us  all 
manner  of  credit ;  for  example,  I  am  telling  lies  and  dukkerin  in 
a  public-house  where  my  batu  or  coko — perhaps  both — are  play- 
ing on  the  fiddle ;  well,  my  batu  and  my  coko  beholds  me 
amongst  the  public-house  crew,  talking  nonsense  and  hearing 
nonsense ;  but  they  are  under  no  apprehension ;  and  presently 
they  sees  the  good-looking  officer  of  militia,  in  his  greens  and 
Lincolns,  get  up  and  give  me  a  wink,  and  I  go  out  with  him 
abroad,  into  the  dark  night  perhaps ;  well,  my  batu  and  my 
coko  goes  on  fiddling  just  as  if  I  were  six  miles  off  asleep  in  the 
tent,  and  not  out  in  the  dark  street  with  the  local  officer,  with  his 
Lincolns  and  his  greens." 


1825.]  GYPSY  LA  W. 


"They  know  they  can  trust  you,  Ursula?" 

"Ay,  ay,  brother;  and,  what's  more,  I  knows  I  can  trust 
myself." 

"  So  you  would  merely  go  out  to  make  a  fool  of  him, 
Ursula  ?  " 

"Merely  go  out  to  make  a  fool  of  him,  brother,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  such  proceedings  really  have  an  odd  look,  Ursula." 

"  Amongst  gorgios,  very  so,  brother." 

"Well,  it  must  be  rather  unpleasant  to  lose  one's  character 
even  amongst  gorgios,  Ursula ;  and  suppose  the  officer,  out  of 
revenge  for  being  tricked  and  duped  by  you,  were  to  say  of  you 
the  thing  that  is  not,  were  to  meet  you  on  the  race-course  the 
next  day,  and  boast  of  receiving  favours  which  he  never  had, 
amidst  a  knot  of  jeering  militiamen,  how  would  you  proceed, 
Ursula?  would  you  not  be  abashed?" 

"By  no  means,  brother;  I  should  bring  my  action  of  law 
against  him." 

"  Your  action  at  law,  Ursula?" 

"Yes,  brother,  I  should  give  a  whistle,  whereupon  all  one's 
cokos  and  batus,  and  all  my  near  and  distant  relations,  would 
leave  their  fiddling,  dukkerin  and  horse-dealing,  and  come  flock- 
ing about  me.  '  What's  the  matter,  Ursula  ? '  says  my  coko. 
'  Nothing  at  all/  I  replies,  '  save  and  except  that  gorgio,  in  his 

greens  and  his  Lincolns,  says  that  I  have  played  the with 

him.'  'Oho,  he  does,  Ursula/  says  my  coko,  'try  your  action  of 
law  against  him,  my  lamb,'  and  he  puts  something  privily  into  my 
hands ;  whereupon  I  goes  close  up  to  the  grinning  gorgio,  and 
staring  him  in  the  face,  with  my  head  pushed  forward,  I  cries 
out :  '  You  say  I  did  what  was  wrong  with  you  last  night  when  I 
was  out  with  you  abroad  ? '  *  Yes,'  said  the  local  officer,  '  I  says 
you  did,'  looking  down  all  the  time.  'You  are  a  liar,'  says  I,  and 
forthwith  I  breaks  his  head  with  the  stick  which  I  holds  behind 
me,  and  which  my  coko  has  conveyed  privily  into  my  hand." 

"  And  this  is  your  action  at  law,  Ursula  ?  " 

"Yes,  brother,  this  is  my  action  at  club-law." 

"And  would  your  breaking  the  fellow's  head  quite  clear  you 
of  all  suspicion  in  the  eyes  of  your  batus,  cokos,  and  what  not?" 

"They  would  never  suspect  me  at  all,  brother,  because  they 
would  know  that  I  would  never  condescend  to  be  over-intimate 
with  a  gorgio ;  the  breaking  the  head  would  be  merely  intended 
to  justify  Ursula  in  the  eyes  of  the  gorgios." 

"  And  would  it  dear  you  in  their  eyes  ?  " 

"  Would  it  not,  brother  ?  When  they  saw  the  blood  running 

5 


66  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

down  from  the  fellow's  cracked  poll  on  his  greens  and  Lincolns, 
they  would  be  quite  satisfied ;  why,  the  fellow  would  not  be  able 
to  show  his  face  at  fair  or  merry-making  for  a  year  and  three- 
quarters." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  it,  Ursula?  " 

"  Can't  say  I  ever  did,  brother,  but  it  would  do." 

"  And  how  did  you  ever  learn  such  a  method  of  proceeding?" 

11  Why,  't  is  advised  by  gypsy  liri,  brother.  It's  part  of  our 
way  of  settling  difficulties  amongst  ourselves ;  for  example,  if  a 
young  Roman  were  to  say  the  thing  which  is  not  respecting 
Ursula  and  himself,  Ursula  would  call  a  great  meeting  of  the 
people,  who  would  all  sit  down  in  a  ring,  the  young  fellow 
amongst  them ;  a  coko  would  then  put  a  stick  in  Ursula's  hand, 
who  would  then  get  up  and  go  to  the  young  fellow,  and  say,  '  Did 

I  play  the with  you  ? '  and  were  he  to  say  '  Yes/  she  would 

crack  his  head  before  the  eyes  of  all." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  Ursula,  I  was  bred  an  apprentice  to  gorgio 
law,  and  of  course  ought  to  stand  up  for  it,  whenever  I  con- 
scientiously can,  but  I  must  say  the  gypsy  manner  of  bringing 
an  action  for  defamation  is  much  less  tedious,  and  far  more 
satisfactory,  than  the  gorgiko  one.  I  wish  you  now  to  clear  up 
a  certain  point  which  is  rather  mysterious  to  me,  You  say  that 
for  a  Romany  chi  to  do  what  is  unseemly  with  a  gorgio  is  quite 
out  of  the  question,  yet  only  the  other  day  I  heard  you  singing  a 
song  in  which  a  Romany  chi  confesses  herself  to  be  cambri  by  a 
grand  gorgious  gentleman." 

"  A  sad  let  down,"  said  Ursula. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "sad  or  not,  there's  the  song  that  speaks  of 
the  thing,  which  you  give  me  to  understand  is  not." 

"Well,  if  the  thing  ever  was,"  said  Ursula,  "it  was  a  long  time 
ago,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  not  true." 

"  Then  why  do  you  sing  the  song  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  brother,  we  sings  the  song  now  and  then  to  be 
a  warning  to  ourselves  to  have  as  little  to  do  as  possible  in  the 
way  of  acquaintance  with  the  gorgios  ;  and  a  warning  it  is ;  you 
see  how  the  young  woman  in  the  song  was  driven  out  of  her  tent 
by  her  mother,  with  all  kind  of  disgrace  and  bad  language ;  but 
you  don't  know  that  she  was  afterwards  buried  alive  by  her  cokos 
and  pals  in  an  uninhabited  place ;  the  song  doesn't  say  it,  but  the 
story  says  it,  for  there  is  a  story  about  it,  though,  as  I  said  before, 
it  was  a  long  time  ago,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  wasn't  true." 

"  But  if  such  a  thing  were  to  happen  at  present,  would  the 
cokos  and  pals  bury  the  girl  alive?" 


1825.]  RACE  PURITY.  67 

"  I  can't  say  what  they  would  do,"  said  Ursula ;  "  I  suppose 
they  are  not  so  strict  as  they  were  long  ago;  at  any  rate,  she 
would  be  driven  from  the  tan,  and  avoided  by  all  her  family  and 
relations  as  a  gorgio's  acquaintance ;  so  that,  perhaps,  at  last,  she 
would  be  glad  if  they  would  bury  her  alive." 

"  Well,  I  can  conceive  that  there  would  be  an  objection  on 
the  part  of  the  cokos  and  batus  that  a  Romany  chi  should  form 
an  improper  acquaintance  with  a  gorgio,  but  I  should  think  that 
the  batus  and  cokos  could  hardly  object  to  the  chi's  entering  into 
the  honourable  estate  of  wedlock  with  a  gorgio." 

Ursula  was  silent. 

"  Marriage  is  an  honourable  estate,  Ursula." 

"Well,  brother,  suppose  it  be?" 

"  I  don't  see  why  a  Romany  chi  should  object  to  enter  into 
the  honourable  estate  of  wedlock  with  a  gorgio." 

"  You  don't,  brother,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  and,  moreover,  I  am  aware,  notwithstanding 
your  evasion,  Ursula,  that  marriages  and  connections  now  and 
then  occur  between  gorgios  and  Romany  chies,  the  result  of 
which  is  the  mixed  breed,  called  half  and  half,  which  is  at  present 
travelling  about  England,  and  to  which  the  Flaming  Tinman 
belongs,  otherwise  called  Anselo  Herne." 

"As  for  the  half  and  halfs,"  said  Ursula,  "they  are  a  bad 
set ;  and  there  is  not  a  worse  blackguard  in  England  than  Anselo 
Herne." 

"All  that  you  say  may  be  very  true,  Ursula,  but  you  admit 
that  there  are  half  and  halfs." 

"  The  more's  the  pity,  brother." 

"  Pity,  or  not,  you  admit  the  fact ;  but  how  do  you  account 
for  it?" 

"  How  do  I  account  for  it  ?  why,  I  will  tell  you,  by  the  break 
up  of  a  Roman  family,  brother — the  father  of  a  small  family  dies, 
and,  perhaps,  the  mother ;  and  the  poor  children  are  left  behind  ; 
sometimes  they  are  gathered  up  by  their  relations,  and  some- 
times, if  they  have  none,  by  charitable  Romans,  who  bring  them 
up  in  the  observance  of  gypsy  law ;  but  sometimes  they  are  not 
so  lucky,  and  falls  into  the  company  of  gorgios,  trampers  and 
basket-makers,  who  live  in  caravans,  with  whom  they  take  up, 

and  so I  hate  to  talk  of  the  matter,  brother ;  but  so  comes 

this  race  of  the  half  and  halfs." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say,  Ursula,  that  no  Romany  chi,  unless 
compelled  by  hard  necessity,  would  have  anything  to  do  with  a 
gorgio  ?  " 


C8  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"We  are  not  over-fond  of  gorgios,  brother,  and  we  hates 
basket-makers,  and  folks  that  live  in  caravans." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  suppose  a  gorgio  who  is  not  a  basket- 
maker,  a  fine,  handsome  gorgious  gentleman,  who  lives  in  a  fine 
house " 

"We  are  not  fond  of  houses,  brother;  I  never  slept  in  a 
house  in  my  life." 

"  But  would  not  plenty  of  money  induce  you  ?  " 

"  I  hate  houses,  brother,  and  those  who  live  in  them." 

"Well,  suppose  such  a  person  were  willing  to  resign  his  fine 
house ;  and,  for  love  of  you,  to  adopt  gypsy  law,  speak  Romany, 
and  live  in  a  tan,  would  you  have  nothing  to  say  to  him?  " 

"Bringing  plenty  of  money  with  him,  brother?" 

"  Well,  bringing  plenty  of  money  with  him,  Ursula." 

"  Well,  brother,  suppose  you  produce  your  man ;  where  is 
he?" 

"  I  was  merely  supposing  such  a  person,  Ursula." 

"  Then  you  don't  know  of  such  a  person,  brother?" 

"  Why,  no,  Ursula  ;  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"Because,  brother,  I  was  almost  beginning  to  think  that  you 
meant  yourself." 

"Myself!  Ursula;  I  have  no  fine  house  to  resign;  nor  have 
I  money.  Moreover,  Ursula,  though  I  have  a  great  regard  for 
you,  and  though  I  consider  you  very  handsome,  quite  as  hand- 
some, indeed,  as  Meridiana  in — 

"Meridiana!  where  did  you  meet  wkh  her?"  said  Ursula, 
with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Why,  in  old  Pulci's " 

"At  old  Fulcher's!  that's  not  true,  brother.  Meridiana  is  a 
Borzlam,  and  travels  with  her  own  people  and  not  with  old 
Fulcher,  who  is  a  gorgio,  and  a  basket-maker." 

"  I  was  not  speaking  of  old  Fulcher,  but  Pulci,  a  great 
Italian  writer,  who  lived  many  hundred  years  ago,  and  who,  in 
his  poem  called  M organic  Maggiore^  speaks  of  Meridiana,  the 
daughter  of " 

"Old  Cams  Borzlam,"  said  Ursula;  -'but  if  the  fellow  you 
mention  lived  so  many  hundred  years  ago,  how,  in  the  name  of 
wonder,  could  he  know  anything  of  Meridiana?" 

"  The  wonder,  Ursula,  is,  how  your  people  could  ever  have 
got  hold  of  that  name,  and  similar  ones.  The  Meridiana  of 
Pulci  was  not  the  daughter  of  old  Carus  Borzlam,  but  of  Cara- 
doro,  a  great  pagan  king  of  the  East,  who,  being  besieged  in  his 
capital  by  Manfredonio,  another  mighty  pagan  king,  who  wished 


1825.]  HEDGE  NOTES  ON  PULCI.  6g 

to  obtain  possession  of  his  daughter,  who  had  refused  him,  was 
relieved  in  his  distress  by  certain  paladins  of  Charlemagne,  with 
one  of  whom,  Oliver,  his  daughter,  Meridiana,  fell  in  love." 

"  I  see,"  said  Ursula,  "  that  it  must  have  been  altogether  a 
different  person,  for  I  am  sure  that  Meridiana  Borzlam  would 
never  have  fallen  in  love  with  Oliver.  Oliver !  why,  that  is  the 
name  of  the  curo-mengro,  who  lost  the  fight  near  the  chong  gav, 
the  day  of  the  great  tempest,  when  I  got  wet  through.  No,  no  ! 
Meridiana  Borzlam  would  never  have  so  far  forgot  her  blood  as 
to  take  up  with  Tom  Oliver." 

"  I  was  not  talking  of  that  Oliver,  Ursula,  but  of  Oliver,  peer 
of  France,  and  paladin  of  Charlemagne,  with  whom  Meridiana, 
daughter  of  Caradoro,  fell  in  love,  and  for  whose  sake  she 
renounced  her  religion  and  became  a  Christian,  and  finally 
ingravidata,  or  cambri,  by  him  : — 

'  E  nacquene  un  figliuol,  dice  la  storia, 
Che  dette  a  Carlo-man  poi  gran  vittoria ' ; 

which  means " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  what  it  means,"  said  Ursula ;  "  no 
good,  I'm  sure.  Well,  if  the  Meridiana  of  Charles's  wain's  pal 
was  no  handsomer  than  Meridiana  Borzlam,  she  was  no  great 
catch,  brother ;  for  though  I  am  by  no  means  given  to  vanity,  I 
think  myself  better  to  look  at  than  she,  though  I  will  say  she  is 
no  lubbeny,  and  would  scorn " 

"  I  make  no  doubt  she  would,  Ursula,  and  I  make  no  doubt 
that  you  are  much  handsomer  than  she,  or  even  the  Meridiana  of 
Oliver.  What  I  was  about  to  say,  before  you  interrupted  me,  is 
this,  that  though  I  have  a  great  regard  for  you,  and  highly  admire 
you,  it  is  only  in  a  brotherly  way,  and " 

"And  you  had  nothing  better  to  say  to  me,"  said  Ursula, 
"  when  you  wanted  to  talk  to  me  beneath  a  hedge,  than  that  you 
liked  me  in  a  brotherly  way !  well,  I  declare " 

"  You  seem  disappointed,  Ursula." 

"Disappointed,  brother!  not  I." 

"  You  were  just  now  saying  that  you  disliked  gorgios,  so,  of 
course,  could  only  wish  that  I,  who  am  a  gorgio,  should  like  you 
in  a  brotherly  way;  I  wished  to  have  a  conversation  with  you 
beneath  a  hedge,  but  only  with  the  view  of  procuring  from  you 
some  information  respecting  the  song  which  you  sung  the  other 
day,  and  the  conduct  of  Roman  females,  which  has  always  struck 
me  as  being  highly  unaccountable ;  so,  if  you  thought  anything 
else " 


70  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  What  else  should  I  expect  from  a  picker-up  of  old  words, 
brother  ?  Bah  !  I  dislike  a  picker-up  of  old  words  worse  than  a 
picker-up  of  old  rags." 

"  Don't  be  angry,  Ursula,  I  feel  a  great  interest  in  you ;  you 
are  very  handsome  and  very  clever;  indeed,  with  your  beauty 
and  cleverness,  I  only  wonder  that  you  have  not  long  since  been 
married." 

"You  do,  do  you,  brother?" 

"Yes.  However,  keep  up  your  spirits,  Ursula,  you  are  not 
much  past  the  prime  of  youth,  so " 

"  Not  much  past  the  prime  of  youth !  Don't  be  uncivil, 
brother,  I  was  only  twenty-two  last  month." 

"  Don't  be  offended,  Ursula,  but  twenty-two  is  twenty-two,  or, 
I  should  rather  say,  that  twenty-two  in  a  woman  is  more  than 
twenty-six  in  a  man.  You  are  still  very  beautiful,  but  I  advise 
you  to  accept  the  first  offer  that's  made  to  you." 

"  Thank  you,  brother,  but  your  advice  comes  rather  late ;  I 
accepted  the  first  offer  that  was  made  me  five  years  ago." 

"  You  married  five  years  ago,  Ursula  !  is  it  possible?  " 

"  Quite  possible,  brother,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  how  came  I  to  know  nothing  about  it  ?  " 

"How  comes  it  that  you  don't  know  many  thousand  things 
about  the  Romans,  brother?  Do  you  think  they  tell  you  all 
their  affairs?" 

"  Married,  Ursula,  married  !  well,  I  declare ! " 

"You  seem  disappointed,  brother." 

"  Disappointed  !  Oh  !  no,  not  at  all ;  but  Jasper,  only  a  few 
weeks  ago,  told  me  that  you  were  not  married;  and,  indeed, 
almost  gave  me  to  understand  that  you  would  be  very  glad  to  get 
a  husband." 

"  And  you  believed  him  ?  I'll  tell  you,  brother,  for  your  in- 
struction, that  there  is  not  in  the  whole  world  a  greater  liar  than 
Jasper  Petulengro." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,  Ursula ;  but  with  respect  to  him  you 
married — who  might  he  be  ?  A  gorgio,  or  a  Romany  chal  ?  " 

"  Gorgio,  or  Romany  chal  !  Do  you  think  I  would  ever 
condescend  to  a  gorgio!  It  was  a  Camomescro,  brother,  a 
Lovell,  a  distant  relation  of  my  own." 

"And  where  is  he?  and  what  became  of  him  !  Have  you 
any  family?" 

"  Don't  think  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  my  history,  brother  ; 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  tired  of  sitting  under  hedges  with 
you,  talking  nonsense.  I  shall  go  to  my  house." 


1825.]  "  DISAPPOINTED,  BROTHER  ? "  71 

"Do  sit  a  little  longer,  sister  Ursula.  I  most  heartily  con- 
gratulate you  on  your  marriage.  But  where  is  this  same  Lovell  ? 
I  have  never  seen  him :  I  wish  to  congratulate  him  too.  You 
are  quite  as  handsome  as  the  Meridiana  of  Pulci,  Ursula,  ay,  or 
the  Despina  of  Ricciardetto.  Ricciardetto,  Ursula,  is  a  poem 
written  by  one  Fortiguerra,  about  ninety  years  ago,  in  imitation 
of  the  Morgante  of  Pulci.  It  treats  of  the  wars  of  Charlemagne 
and  his  paladins  with  various  barbarous  nations,  who  came  to 
besiege  Paris.  Despina  was  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  Scricca, 
King  of  Cafria;  she  was  the  beloved  of  Ricciardetto,  and  was 
beautiful  as  an  angel;  but  I  make  no  doubt  you  are  quite  as 
handsome  as  she." 

"  Brother,"  said  Ursula — but  the  reply  of  Ursula  I  reserve 
for  another  chapter,  the  present  having  attained  to  rather  an 
uncommon  length,  for  which,  however,  the  importance  of  the 
matter  discussed  is  a  sufficient  apology. 


CHAPTER   XL 


"  BROTHER,"  said  Ursula,  plucking  a  dandelion  which  grew  at  her 
feet,  "  I  have  always  said  that  a  more  civil  and  pleasant-spoken 
person  than  yourself  can't  be  found.  I  have  a  great  regard  for 
you  and  your  learning,  and  am  willing  to  do  you  any  pleasure  in 
the  way  of  words  or  conversation.  Mine  is  not  a  very  happy 
story,  but  as  you  wish  to  hear  it,  it  is  quite  at  your  service. 
Launcelot  Lovell  made  me  an  offer,  as  you  call  it,  and  we  were 
married  in  Roman  fashion ;  that  is,  we  gave  each  other  our  right 
hands,  and  promised  to  be  true  to  each  other.  We  lived  together 
two  years,  travelling  sometimes  by  ourselves,  sometimes  with  our 
relations ;  I  bore  him  two  children,  both  of  which  were  still-born, 
partly,  I  believe,  from  the  fatigue  I  underwent. in  running  about 
the  country  telling  dukkerin  when  I  was  not  exactly  in  a  state  to 
do  so,  and  partly  from  the  kicks  and  blows  which  my  husband 
Launcelot  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  me  every  night,  provided  I 
came  home  with  less  than  five  shillings,  which  it  is  sometimes  im- 
possible to  make  in  the  country,  provided  no  fair  or  merry-making 
is  going  on.  At  the  end  of  two  years  my  husband,  Launcelot, 
whistled  a  horse  from  a  farmer's  field,  and  sold  it  for  forty 
pounds  ;  and  for  that  horse  he  was  taken,  put  in  prison,  tried  and 
condemned  to  be  sent  to  the  other  country  for  life.  Two  days 
before  he  was  to  be  sent  away,  I  got  leave  to  see  him  in  the  prison, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  turnkey  I  gave  him  a  thin  cake  of 
ginger-bread,  in  which  there  was  a  dainty  saw  which  could  cut 
through  iron.  I  then  took  on  wonderfully,  turned  my  eyes  inside 
out,  fell  down  in  a  seeming  fit,  and  was  carried  out  of  the  prison. 
That  same  night  my  husband  sawed  his  irons  off,  cut  through  the 
bars  of  his  window,  and  dropping  down  a  height  of  fifty  feet, 
lighted  on  his  legs,  and  came  and  joined  me  on  a  heath  where  I 
was  camped  alone.  We  were  just  getting  things  ready  to  be  off, 
when  we  heard  people  coming,  and  sure  enough  they  were  runners 
after  my  husband,  Launcelot  Lovell ;  for  his  escape  had  been  dis- 
covered within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  he  had  got  away.  My 
husband,  without  bidding  me  farewell,  set  off  at  full  speed,  and 

(72) 


1825.]  URSULA'S  STORY.  73 

they  after  him,  but  they  could  not  take  him,  and  so  they  came 
back  and  took  me,  and  shook  me,  and  threatened  me,  and  had  me 
before  the  poknees,  who  shook  his  head  at  me,  and  threatened  me 
in  order  to  make  me  discover  where  my  husband  was,  but  I  said 
I  did  not  know,  which  was  true  enough ;  not  that  I  would  have 
told  him  if  I  had.  So  at  last  the  poknees  and  the  runners,  not 
being  able  to  make  anything  out  of  me,  were  obliged  to  let  me  go, 
and  I  went  in  search  of  my  husband.  I  wandered  about  with  my 
cart  for  several  days  in  the  direction  in  which  I  saw  him  run  off, 
with  my  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  but  could  see  no  marks  of  him  ; 
at  last,  coming  to  four  cross  roads,  I  saw  my  husband's  patteran." 
"  You  saw  your  husband's  patteran  ?  " 
"  Yes,  brother.  Do  you  know  what  patteran  means  ?  " 
"  Of  course,  Ursula ;  the  gypsy  trail,  the  handful  of  grass  which 
the  gypsies  strew  in  the  roads  as  they  travel,  to  give  information  to 
any  of  their  companions  who  may  be  behind,  as  to  the  route  they 
have  taken.  The  gypsy  patteran  has  always  had  a  strange  interest 
for  me,  Ursula." 

"  Like  enough,  brother ;  but  what  does  patteran  mean  ?  " 
"  Why,  the  gypsy  trail,  formed  as  I  told  you  before." 
"And  you  know  nothing  more  about  patteran,  brother?" 
"  Nothing  at  all,  Ursula  ;  do  you  ?  " 
"  What's  the  name  for  the  leaf  of  a  tree,  brother  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know,"  said  I ;  "  it's  odd  enough  that  I  have  asked 
that  question  of  a  dozen  Romany  chals  and  chies,  and  they 
always  told  me  that  they  did  not  know." 

"  No  more  they  did,  brother ;  there's  only  one  person  in 
England  that  knows,  and  that's  myself — the  name  for  a  leaf  is 
patteran.  Now  there  are  two  that  knows  it — the  other  is  yourself." 
"  Dear  me,  Ursula,  how  very  strange  !  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you.  I  think  I  never  saw  you  look  so  pretty  as  you  do  now ;  but 
who  told  you  ?  " 

"  My  mother,  Mrs.  Herne,  told  it  me  one  day,  brother,  when 
she  was  in  a  good  humour,  which  she  very  seldom  was,  as  no  one 
has  a  better  right  to  know  than  yourself,  as  she  hated  you 
mortally :  it  was  one  day  when  you  had  been  asking  our  company 
what  was  the  word  for  a  leaf,  and  nobody  could  tell  you,  that  she 
took  me  aside  and  told  me,  for  she  was  in  a  good  humour,  and 
triumphed  in  seeing  you  baulked.  She  told  me  the  word  for  leaf 
was  patteran,  which  our  people  use  now  for  trail,  having  forgotten 
the  true  meaning.  She  said  that  the  trail  was  called  patteran,  be- 
cause the  gypsies  of  old  were  in  the  habit  of  making  the  marks 
with  the  leaves  and  branches  of  trees,  placed  in  a  certain  manner. 


74  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

She  said  that  nobody  knew  it  but  herself,  who  was  one  of  the  old 
sort,  and  begged  me  never  to  tell  the  word  to  any  one  but  him  I 
should  marry ;  and  to  be  particularly  cautious  never  to  let  you 
know  it,  whom  she  hated.  Well,  brother,  perhaps  I  have  done 
wrong  to  tell  you ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  I  likes  you,  and  am 
always  ready  to  do  your  pleasure  in  words  and  conversation ;  my 
mother,  moreover,  is  dead  and  gone,  and,  poor  thing,  will  never 
know  anything  about  the  matter.  So,  when  I  married,  I  told  my 
husband  about  the  patteran,  and  we  were  in  the  habit  of  making 
our  private  trails  with  leaves  and  branches  of  trees,  which  none  of 
the  other  gypsy  people  did ;  so,  when  I  saw  my  husband's  patteran, 
I  knew  it  at  once,  and  I  followed  it  upwards  of  two  hundred  miles 
towards  the  north  ;  and  then  I  came  to  a  deep,  awful-looking  water, 
with  an  overhanging  bank,  and  on  the  bank  I  found  the  patteran, 
which  directed  me  to  proceed  along  the  bank  towards  the  east,  and 
I  followed  my  husband's  patteran  towards  the  east ;  and  before  I 
had  gone  half  a  mile,  I  came  to  a  place  where  I  saw  the  bank  had 
given  way,  and  fallen  into  the  deep  water.  Without  paying  much 
heed,  I  passed  on,  and  presently  came  to  a  public-house,  not  far 
from  the  water,  and  I  entered  the  public-house  to  get  a  little  beer, 
and  perhaps  to  tell  a  dukkerin,  for  I  saw  a  great  many  people 
about  the  door;  and,  when  I  entered,  I  found  there  was  what 
they  calls  an  inquest  being  held  upon  a  body  in  that  house,  and 
the  jury  had  just  risen  to  go  and  look  at  the  body ;  and  being  a 
woman,  and  having  a  curiosity,  I  thought  I  would  go  with  them, 
and  so  I  did ;  and  no  sooner  did  I  see  the  body,  than  I  knew  it 
to  be  my  husband's ;  it  was  much  swelled  and  altered,  but  I  knew 
it  partly  by  the  clothes,  and  partly  by  a  mark  on  the  forehead,  and 
I  cried  out,  '  It  is  my  husband's  body,'  and  I  fell  down  in  a  fit, 
and  the  fit  that  time,  brother,  was  not  a  seeming  one." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  I,  "  how  terrible  !  But  tell  me,  Ursula,  how 
did  your  husband  come  by  his  death?" 

"  The  bank,  overhanging  the  deep  water,  gave  way  under  him, 
brother,  and  he  was  drowned ;  for,  like  most  of  our  people,  he 
could  not  swim,  or  only  a  little.  The  body,  after  it  had  been  in 
the  water  a  long  time,  came  up  of  itself,  and  was  found  floating. 
Well,  brother,  when  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  found  that  I 
was  the  wife  of  the  drowned  man,  they  were  very  kind  to  me,  and 
made  a  subscription  for  me,  with  which,  after  having  seen  my 
husband  buried,  I  returned  the  way  I  had  come,  till  I  met  Jaspei 
and  his  people,  and  with  them  I  have  travelled  ever  since :  I  was 
very  melancholy  for  a  long  time,  I  assure  you,  brother ;  for  the 
death  of  my  husband  preyed  very  much  upon  my  mind." 


1825.]  REMARKS.  75 

"  His  death  was  certainly  a  very  shocking  one,  Ursula ;  but, 
really,  if  he  had  died  a  natural  one,  you  could  scarcely  have 
regretted  it,  for  he  appears  to  have  treated  you  barbarously." 

"  Women  must  bear,  brother ;  and,  barring  that  he  kicked  and 
beat  me,  and  drove  me  out  to  tell  dukkerin  when  I  could  scarcely 
stand,  he  was  not  a  bad  husband.  A  man,  by  gypsy  law,  brother, 
is  allowed  to  kick  and  beat  his  wife,  and  to  bury  her  alive  if  he 
thinks  proper.  I  am  a  gypsy,  and  have  nothing  to  say  against 
the  law." 

"  But  what  has  Mikailia  Chikno  to  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  cripple,  brother,  the  only  cripple  amongst  the 
Roman  people :  so  she  is  allowed  to  do  and  say  as  she  pleases. 
Moreover,  her  husband  does  not  think  fit  to  kick  or  beat  her, 
though  it  is  my  opinion  she  would  like  him  all  the  better  if  he 
were  occasionally  to  do  so,  and  threaten  to  bury  her  alive;  at 
any  rate,  she  would  treat  him  better,  and  respect  him  more." 

"  Your  sister  does  not  seem  to  stand  much  in  awe  of  Jasper 
Petulengro,  Ursula." 

"  Let  the  matters  of  my  sister  and  Jasper  Petulengro  alone, 
brother ;  you  must  travel  in  their  company  some  time  before  you 
can  understand  them ;  they  are  a  strange  two,  up  to  all  kind  of 
chaffing ;  but  two  more  regular  Romans  don't  breathe,  and  I'll  tell 
you,  for  your  instruction,  that  there  isn't  a  better  mare-breaker  in 
England  than  Jasper  Petulengro  ;  if  you  can  manage  Miss  Isopel 
Berners  as  well  as " 

"Isopel  Berners,"  said  I,  "how  came  you  to  think  of  her?  " 

"  How  should  I  but  think  of  her,  brother,  living  as  she  does 
with  you  in  Mumpers'  Dingle,  and  travelling  about  with  you ;  you 
will  have,  brother,  more  difficulty  to  manage  her,  than  Jasper  has 
to  manage  my  sister  Pakomovna.  I  should  have  mentioned  her 
before,  only  I  wanted  to  know  what  you  had  to  say  to  me  ;  and 
when  we  got  into  discourse,  I  forgot  her.  I  say,  brother,  let  me 
tell  you  your  dukkerin,  with  respect  to  her,  you  will  never " 

"  I  want  to  hear  no  dukkerin,  Ursula." 

"  Do  let  me  tell  you  your  dukkerin,  brother,  you  will  never 
manage " 

"I  want  to  hear  no  dukkerin,  Ursula,  in  connection  with 
Isopel  Berners.  Moreover,  it  is  Sunday,  we  will  change  the 
subject ;  it  is  surprising  to  me  that  after  all  you  have  undergone, 
you  should  look  so  beautiful.  I  suppose  you  do  not  think  of 
marrying  again,  Ursula?" 

"  No,  brother,  one  husband  at  a  time  is  quite  enough  for  any 
reasonable  mort ;  especially  such  a  good  husband  as  I  have  got." 


76  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"Such  a  good  husband!  why,  I  thought  you  told  me  your 
husband  was  drowned  ?  " 

"  Yes,  brother,  my  first  husband  was." 

"  And  have  you  a  second  ?  " 

"To  be  sure,  brother." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?  in  the  name  of  wonder." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  why  Sylvester,  to  be  sure." 

"  I  do  assure  you,  Ursula,  that  I  feel  disposed  to  be  angry 
with  you ;  such  a  handsome  young  woman  as  yourself  to  take  up 
with  such  a  nasty  pepper-faced  good  for  nothing  — 

"  I  won't  hear  my  husband  abused,  brother ;  so  you  had  better 
say  no  more." 

"  Why,  is  he  not  the  Lazarus  of  the  gypsies  ?  has  he  a  penny 
of  his  own,  Ursula  ?  " 

"  Then  the  more  his  want,  brother,  of  a  clever  chi  like  me  to 
take  care  of  him  and  his  childer.  I  tell  you  what,  brother,  I  will 
chore,  if  necessary,  and  tell  dukkerin  for  Sylvester,  if  even  so 
heavy  as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  stand.  You  call  him  lazy ;  you 
would  not  think  him  lazy  if  you  were  in  a  ring  with  him  :  he  is  a 
proper  man  with  his  hands;  Jasper  is  going  to  back  him  for 
twenty  pounds  against  Slammocks  of  the  Chong  gav,  the  brother 
of  Roarer  and  Bell-metal,  he  says  he  has  no  doubt  that  he  will 
win." 

"  Well,  if  you  like  him,  I,  of  course,  can  have  no  objection. 
Have  you  been  long  married?  " 

"  About  a  fortnight,  brother  ;  that  dinner,  the  other  day,  when 
I  sang  the  song,  was  given  in  celebration  of  the  wedding. 

"  Were  you  married  in  a  church,  Ursula? " 

"  We  were  not,  brother ;  none  but  gorgios,  cripples  and 
lubbenys  are  ever  married  in  a  church :  we  took  each  other's 
words.  Brother,  I  have  been  with  you  near  three  hours  beneath 
this  hedge.  I  will  go  to  my  husband." 

"  Does  he  know  that  you  are  here?" 

"  He  does,  brother." 

"  And  is  he  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Satisfied  !  of  course.  Lor',  you  gorgios  !  Brother,  I  go  to 
my  husband  and  my  house."  And,  thereupon,  Ursula  rose  and 
departed. 

After  waiting  a  little  time  I  also  arose;  it  was  now  dark,  and 
I  thought  I  could  do  no  better  than  betake  myself  to  the  dingle ; 
at  the  entrance  of  it  I  found  Mr.  Petulene;ro.  "Well,  brother," 
said  he,  "  what  kind  of  conversation  have  you  and  Ursula  had 
beneath  the  hedge?" 


1825.]  AN  BA  VESDROPPBR.  77 

"If  you  wished  to  hear  what  we  were  talking  about,  you  should 
have  come  and  sat  down  beside  us ;  you  knew  where  we  were." 

"Well,  brother,  I  did  much  the  same,  for  I  went  and  sat 
down  behind  you." 

"  Behind  the  hedge,  Jasper?  " 

"  Behind  the  hedge,  brother." 

"  And  heard  all  our  conversation  ?  " 

"Every  word,  brother;  and  a  rum  conversation  it  was." 

"  'Tis  an  old  saying,  Jasper,  that  listeners  never  hear  any  good 
of  themselves ;  perhaps  you  heard  the  epithet  that  Ursula  bestowed 
upon  you." 

"  If,  by  epitaph,  you  mean  that  she  called  me  a  liar,  I  did, 
brother,  and  she  was  not  much  wrong,  for  I  certainly  do  not 
always  stick  exactly  to  truth  ;  you,  however,  have  not  much  to 
complain  of  me." 

"  You  deceived  me  about  Ursula,  giving  me  to  understand  she 
was  not  married." 

"She  was  not  married  when  I  told  you  so,  brother;  that  is, 
not  to  Sylvester ;  nor  was  I  aware  that  she  was  going  to  marry 
him.  I  once  thought  you  had  a  kind  of  regard  for  her,  and  I  am 
sure  she  had  as  much  for  you  as  a  Romany  chi  can  have  for  a 
gorgio.  I  half-expected  to  have  heard  you  make  love  to  her 
behind  the  hedge,  but  I  begin  to  think  you  care  for  nothing  in 
this  world  but  old  words  and  strange  stories.  Lor',  to  take  a 
young  woman  under  a  hedge,  and  talk  to  her  as  you  did  to 
Ursula ;  and  yet  you  got  everything  out  of  her  that  you  wanted, 
with  your  gammon  about  old  Fulcher  and  Meridiana.  You  are  a 
cunning  one,  brother." 

"There  you  are  mistaken,  Jasper.  I  am  not  cunning.  If 
people  think  I  am,  it  is  because,  being  made  up  of  art  themselves, 
simplicity  of  character  is  a  puzzle  to  them.  Your  women  are 
certainly  extraordinary  creatures,  Jasper." 

"  Didn't  I  say  they  were  rum  animals  ?  Brother,  we  Romans 
shall  always  stick  together  as  long  as  they  stick  fast  to  us." 

"Do  you  think  they  always  will,  Jasper?  " 

"  Can't  say,  brother  ;  nothing  lasts  for  ever.  Romany  chies 
are  Romany  chies  still,  though  not  exactly  what  they  were  sixty 
years  ago.  My  wife,  though  a  rum  one,  is  not  Mrs.  Herne, 
brother.  I  think  she  is  rather  fond  of  Frenchmen  and  French 
discourse.  I  tell  you  what,  brother,  if  ever  gypsyism  breaks  up, 
it  will  be  owing  to  our  chies  having  heen  bitten  by  that  mad 
puppy  they  calls  gentility.* 


CHAPTER  XII. 


I  DESCENDED  to  the  bottom  of  the  dingle.  It  was  nearly  involved 
in  obscurity.  To  dissipate  the  feeling  of  melancholy  which  came 
over  my  mind,  I  resolved  to  kindle  a  fire ;  and  having  heaped 
dry  sticks  upon  my  hearth,  and  added  a  billet  or  two,  I  struck  a 
light,  and  soon  produced  a  blaze.  Sitting  down,  I  fixed  my  eyes 
upon  the  blaze,  and  soon  fell  into  a  deep  meditation.  I  thought 
of  the  events  of  the  day,  the  scene  at  church,  and  what  I  had 
heard  at  church,  the  danger  of  losing  one's  soul,  the  doubts  of 
Jaspei  Petulengro  as  to  whether  one  had  a  soul.  I  thought  over 
the  various  arguments  which  I  had  either  heard,  or  which  had 
come  spontaneously  to  my  mind,  for  or  against  the  probability  of 
a  state  of  future  existence.  They  appeared  to  me  to  be  tolerably 
evenly  balanced.  I  then  thought  that  it  was  at  all  events  taking 
the  safest  part  to  conclude  that  there  was  a  soul.  It  would  be  a 
terrible  thing,  after  having  passed  one's  life  in  the  disbelief  of  the 
existence  of  a  soul,  to  wake  up  after  death  a  soul,  and  to  find 
one's  self  a  lost  soul.  Yes,  methought  1  would  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  one  has  a  soul.  Choosing  the  safe  side,  however, 
appeared  to  me  to  be  playing  a  rather  dastardly  part.  I  had 
never  been  an  admirer  of  people  who  chose  the  safe  side  in 
everything ;  indeed  I  had  always  entertained  a  thorough  contempt 
foi  them.  Surely  it  would  be  showing  more  manhood  to  adopt 
the  dangerous  side,  that  of  disbelief;  I  almost  resolved  to  do  so, 
but  yet  in  a  question  of  so  much  importance,  I  ought  not  to  be 
guided  by  vanity.  The  question  was  not  which  was  the  sate,  but 
the  true  side  ?  yet  how  was  1  to  know  which  was  the  true  side? 
Then  I  thought  of  the  Bible — which  1  had  been  reading  in  the 
morning — that  spoke  of  the  soul  and  a  future  state ;  but  was  the 
Bible  true?  I  had  heard  learned  and  moral  men  say  that  it  was 
true,  but  I  had  also  heard  learned  and  moral  men  say  that  it  was 
not :  how  was  I  to  decide  ?  Still  that  balance  of  probabilities ! 
If  I  could  but  see  the  way  of  truth,  I  would  follow  it,  it 
necessary,  upon  hands  and  knees  ;  on  that  I  was  determined ; 
but  1  could  not  see  it.  Feeling  my  brain  begin  to  turn  round,  I 

(78) 


i825.]  REVIEW.  79 

resolved  to  think  of  something  else ;  and  forthwith  began  to  think 
of  what  had  passed  between  Ursula  and  myself  in  our  discourse 
beneath  the  hedge. 

I  mused  deeply  on  what  she  had  told  me  as  to  the  virtue  of 
the  females  of  her  race.  How  singular  that  virtue  must  be  which 
was  kept  pure  and  immaculate  by  the  possessor,  whilst  indulging 
in  habits  of  falsehood  and  dishonesty !  I  had  always  thought  the 
gypsy  females  extraordinary  beings.  I  had  often  wondered  at 
them,  their  dress,  their  manner  of  speaking,  and,  not  least,  at 
their  names ;  but,  until  the  present  day,  I  had  been  unacquainted 
with  the  most  extraordinary  point  connected  with  them.  How 
came  they  possessed  of  this  extraordinary  virtue  ?  was  it  because 
they  were  thievish  ?  I  remembered  that  an  ancient  thief-taker,  who 
had  retired  from  his  useful  calling,  and  who  frequently  visited  the 

office  of  my  master  at  law,  the  respectable  S ,  who  had  the 

management  of  his  property — I  remembered  to  have  heard  this 
worthy,  with  whom  I  occasionally  held  discourse  philosophic  and 
profound,  when  he  and  I  chanced  to  be  alone  together  in  the 
office,  say  that  all  first-rate  thieves  were  sober,  and  of  well- 
regulated  morals,  their  bodily  passions  being  kept  in  abeyance  by 
their  love  of  gain ;  but  this  axiom  could  scarcely  hold  good  with 
respect  to  these  women — however  thievish  they  might  be,  they  did 
care  for  something  besides  gain :  they  cared  for  their  husbands. 
If  they  did  thieve,  they  merely  thieved  for  their  husbands ;  and 
though,  perhaps,  some  of  them  were  vain,  they  merely  prized  their 
beauty  because  it  gave  them  favour  in  the  eyes  of  their  husbands. 
Whatever  the  husbands  were — and  Jasper  had  almost  insinuated 
that  the  males  occasionally  allowed  themselves  some  latitude — 
they  appeared  to  be  as  faithful  to  their  husbands  as  the  ancient 
Roman  matrons  were  to  theirs.  Roman  matrons  !  and,  after  all, 
might  not  these  be  in  reality  Roman  matrons?  They  called 
themselves  Romans ;  might  not  they  be  the  descendants  of  the 
old  Roman  matrons  ?  Might  not  they  be  of  the  same  blood  as 
Lucretia  ?  And  were  not  many  of  their  strange  names — Lucretia 
amongst  the  rest — handed  down  to  them  from  old  Rome  ?  It  is 
true  their  language  was  not  that  of  old  Rome ;  it  was  not,  how- 
ever, altogether  different  from  it.  After  all,  the  ancient  Romans 
might  be  a  tribe  of  these  people,  who  settled  down  and  founded 
a  village  with  the  tilts  of  carts,  which,  by  degrees,  and  the  influx 
of  other  people,  became  the  grand  city  of  the  world.  I  liked  the 
idea  of  the  grand  city  of  the  world  owing  its  origin  to  a  people 
who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  carrying  their  houses  in  their  carts. 
Why,  after  all,  should  not  the,  Romans  of  history  be  a  branch  of 


8o  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1823. 

these  Romans  ?  There  were  several  points  of  similarity  between 
them  ;  if  Roman  matrons  were  chaste,  both  men  and  women 
were  thieves.  Old  Rome  was  the  thief  of  the  world ;  yet  still 
there  were  difficulties  to  be  removed  before  I  could  persuade 
myself  that  the  old  Romans  and  my  Romans  were  identical ;  and 
in  trying  to  remove  these  difficulties,  I  felt  my  brain  once  more 
beginning  to  turn,  and  in  haste  took  up  another  subject  of 
meditation,  and  that  was  the  patteran,  and  what  Ursula  had  told 
me  about  it. 

I  had  always  entertained  a  strange  interest  for  that  sign  by 
which  in  their  wanderings  the  Romanese  gave  to  those  of  their 
people  who  came  behind  intimation  as  to  the  direction  which  they 
took ;  but  it  now  inspired  me  with  greater  interest  than  ever — 
now  that  I  had  learnt  that  the  proper  meaning  of  it  was  the  leaves 
of  trees.  I  had,  as  I  had  said  in  my  dialogue  with  Ursula,  been 
very  eager  to  learn  the  word  for  leaf  in  the  Romanian  language,  but 
had  never  learnt  it  till  this  day ;  so  patteran  signified  leaf,  the  leaf 
of  a  tree ;  and  no  one  at  present  knew  that  but  myself  and  Ursula, 
who  had  learnt  it  from  Mrs.  Herne,  the  last,  it  was  said,  of  the 
old  stock;  and  then  I  thought  what  strange  people  the  gypsies 
must  have  been  in  the  old  time.  They  were  sufficiently  strange 
at  present,  but  they  must  have  been  far  stranger  of  old ;  they 
must  have  been  a  more  peculiar  people — their  language  must  have 
been  more  perfect — and  they  must  have  had  a  greater  stock  of 
strange  secrets.  I  almost  wished  that  I  had  lived  some  two  or 
three  hundred  years  ago,  that  I  might  have  observed  these  people 
when  they  were  yet  stranger  than  at  present.  I  wondered  whether 
I  could  have  introduced  myself  to  their  company  at  that  period, 
whether  I  should  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  such  a 
strange,  half-malicious,  half-good-humoured  being  as  Jasper,  who 
would  have  instructed  me  in  the  language,  then  more  deserving 
of  note  than  at  present.  What  might  I  not  have  done  with  that 
language,  had  I  known  it  in  its  purity?  Why,  I  might  have 
written  books  in  it;  yet  those  who  spoke  it  would  hardly  have 
admitted  me  to  their  society  at  that  period,  when  they  kept  more 
to  themselves.  Yet  I  thought  that  I  might  possibly  have  gained 
their  confidence,  and  have  wandered  about  with  them,  and  learnt 
their  language,  and  all  their  strange  ways,  and  then — and  then — 
and  a  sigh  rose  from  the  depth  of  my  breast ;  for  I  began  to 
think :  "  Supposing  I  had  accomplished  all  this,  what  would  have 
been  the  profit  of  it ;  and  in  what  would  all  this  wild  gypsy  dream 
have  terminated  ?  " 

Then  rose  another  sigh,  yet  more  profound,  for  I  began  to 


1825.]  REFLECTIONS.  81 

think :  "  What  was  likely  to  be  the  profit  of  my  present  way  of 
life ;  the  living  in  dingles,  making  pony  and  donkey  shoes,  con- 
versing with  gypsy-women  under  hedges,  and  extracting  from  them 
their  odd  secrets?"  What  was  likely  to  be  the  profit  of  such  a 
kind  of  life,  even  should  it  continue  for  a  length  of  time  ? — a  sup- 
position not  very  probable,  for  I  was  earning  nothing  to  support 
me,  and  the  funds  with  which  I  had  entered  upon  this  life  were 
gradually  disappearing.  I  was  living,  it  is  true,  not  unpleasantly, 
enjoying  the  healthy  air  of  heaven ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  was  I 
not  sadly  misspending  my  time  ?  Surely  I  was ;  and,  as  I  looked 
back,  it  appeared  to  me  that  I  had  always  been  doing  so.  What 
had  been  the  profit  of  the  tongues  which  I  had  learnt  ?  had  they 
ever  assisted  me  in  the  day  of  hunger?  No,  no  !  it  appeared  to 
me  that  I  had  always  misspent  my  time,  save  in  one  instance, 
when  by  a  desperate  effort  I  had  collected  all  the  powers  of  my 
imagination,  and  written  the  Life  of  Joseph  Sell ;  but  even  when  I 
wrote  the  Life  of  Sell,  was  I  not  in  a  false  position  ?  Provided  I 
had  not  misspent  my  time,  would  it  have  been  necessary  to  make 
that  effort,  which,  after  all,  had  only  enabled  me  to  leave  London, 
and  wander  about  the  country  for  a  time  ?  But  could  I,  taking 
all  circumstances  into  consideration,  have  done  better  than  I  had  ? 
With  my  peculiar  temperament  and  ideas,  could  I  have  pursued 
with  advantage  the  profession  to  which  my  respectable  parents 
had  endeavoured  to  bring  me  up?  It  appeared  to  me  that  I 
could  not,  and  that  the  hand  of  necessity  had  guided  me  from  my 
earliest  years,  until  the  present  night,  in  which  I  found  myself 
seated  in  the  dingle,  staring  on  the  brands  of  the  fire.  But 
ceasing  to  think  of  the  past  which,  as  irrecoverably  gone,  it  was 
useless  to  regret,  even  were  there  cause  to  regret  it,  what  should  I 
do  in  future  ?  Should  I  write  another  book  like  the  Life  of  Joseph 
Sell ;  take  it  to  London,  and  offer  it  to  a  publisher?  But  when  I 
reflected  on  the  grisly  sufferings  which  I  had  undergone  whilst 
engaged  in  writing  the  Life  of  Sell,  I  shrank  from  the  idea  of  a 
similar  attempt;  moreover,  I  doubted  whether  I  possessed  the 
power  to  write  a  similar  work — whether  the  materials  for  the  life 
of  another  Sell  lurked  within  the  recesses  of  my  brain  ?  Had  I 
not  better  become  in  reality  what  I  had  hitherto  been  merely 
playing  at — a  tinker  or  a  gypsy  ?  But  I  soon  saw  that  I  was  not 
fitted  to  become  either  in  reality.  It  was  much  more  agreeable  to 
play  the  gypsy  or  the  tinker  than  to  become  either  in  reality.  I 
had  seen  enough  of  gypsying  and  tinkering  to  be  convinced  of 
that.  All  of  a  sudden  the  idea  of  tilling  the  soil  came  into  my 
head ;  tilling  the  soil  was  a  healthful  and  noble  pursuit !  but  my 

6 


8sl  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

idea  of  tilling  the  soil  had  no  connection  with  Britain  ;  for  I  could 
only  expect  to  till  the  soil  in  Britain  as  a  serf.  I  thought  of  till- 
ing it  in  America,  in  which  it  was  said  there  was  plenty  of  wild, 
unclaimed  land,  of  which  any  one,  who  chose  to  clear  it  of  its 
trees,  might  take  possession.  I  figured  myself  in  America,  in  an 
immense  forest,  clearing  the  land  destined,  by  my  exertions,  to  be- 
come a  fruitful  and  smiling  plain.  Methought  I  heard  the  crash 
of  the  huge  trees  as  they  fell  beneath  my  axe;  and  then  I 
bethought  me  that  a  man  was  intended  to  marry — I  ought  to 
marry ;  and  if  I  married,  where  was  I  likely  to  be  more  happy  as 
a  husband  and  a  father  than  in  America,  engaged  in  tilling  the 
ground?  I  fancied  myself  in  America,  engaged  in  tilling  the 
ground,  assisted  by  an  enormous  progeny.  Well,  why  not  marry, 
and  go  and  till  the  ground  in  America  ?  I  was  young,  and  youth 
was  the  time  to  marry  in,  and  to  labour  in.  I  had  the  use  of  all 
my  faculties  ;  my  eyes,  it  is  true,  were  rather  dull  from  early  study, 
and  from  writing  the  Life  of  Joseph  Sell ;  but  I  could  see  tolerably 
well  with  them,  and  they  were  not  bleared.  I  felt  my  arms,  and 
thighs,  and  teeth — they  were  strong  and  sound  enough  ;  so  now 
was  the  time  to  labour,  to  marry,  eat  strong  flesh,  and  beget  strong 
children — the  power  of  doing  all  this  would  pass  away  with  youth, 
which  was  terribly  transitory.  I  bethought  me  that  a  time  would 
come  when  my  eyes  would  be  bleared,  and,  perhaps,  sightless ; 
my  arms  and  thighs  strengthless  and  sapless;  when  my  teeth 
would  shake  in  my  jaws,  even  supposing  they  did  not  drop  out. 
No  going  a  wooing  then,  no  labouring,  no  eating  strong  flesh, 
and  begetting  lusty  children  then  ;  and  I  bethought  me  how,  when 
all  this  should  be,  I  should  bewail  the  days  of  my  youth  as  mis- 
spent, provided  I  had  not  in  them  founded  for  myself  a  home,  and 
begotten  strong  children  to  take  care  of  me  in  the  days  when  I 
could  not  take  care  of  myself;  and  thinking  of  these  things,  I 
became  sadder  and  sadder,  and  stared  vacantly  upon  the  fire  till 
my  eyes  closed  in  a  doze. 

I  continued  dozing  over  the  fire,  until  rousing  myself  I  perceived 
that  the  brands  were  nearly  consumed,  and  I  thought  of  retiring  for 
the  night.  I  arose,  and  was  about  to  enter  my  tent,  when  a  thought 
struck  me.  "  Suppose,"  thought  I,  "  that  Isopel  Berners  should 
return  in  the  midst  of  the  night,  how  dark  and  dreary  would  the 
dingle  appear  without  a  fire !  truly,  I  will  keep  up  the  fire,  and  I 
will  do  more ;  I  have  no  board  to  spread  for  her,  but  I  will  fill  the 
kettle,  and  heat  it,  so  that,  if  she  comes,  I  may  be  able  to  welcome 
her  with  a  cup  of  tea,  for  I  know  she  loves  tea."  Thereupon  I 
piled  more  wood  upon  the  fire,  and  soon  succeeded  in  producing  a 


FORETHOUGHT.  83 


better  blaze  than  before  ;  then,  taking  the  kettle,  I  set  out  for  the 
spring.  On  arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  dingle,  which  fronted  the 
east,  I  perceived  that  Charles's  wain  was  nearly  opposite  to  it,  high 
above  in  the  heavens,  by  which  I  knew  that  the  night  was  tolerably 
well  advanced.  The  gypsy  encampment  lay  before  me  ;  all  was 
hushed  and  still  within  it,  and  its  inmates  appeared  to  be  locked 
in  slumber  ;  as  I  advanced,  however,  the  dogs,  which  were  fastened 
outside  the  tents,  growled  and  barked  ;  but  presently  recognising 
me,  they  were  again  silent,  some  of  them  wagging  their  tails.  As 
I  drew  near  a  particular  tent,  I  heard  a  female  voice  say,  "  Some 
one  is  coming  !"  and,  as  I  was  about  to  pass  it,  the  cloth  which 
formed  the  door  was  suddenly  lifted  up,  and  a  black  head  and 
part  of  a  huge  naked  body  protruded.  It  was  the  head  and  upper 
part  of  the  giant  Tawno,  who,  according  to  the  fashion  of  gypsy 
men,  lay  next  the  door  wrapped  in  his  blanket  ;  the  blanket  had, 
however,  fallen  off,  and  the  starlight  shone  clear  on  his  athletic 
tawny  body,  and  was  reflected  from  his  large  staring  eyes. 

"  It  is  only  I,  Tawno,"  said  I,  "  going  to  fill  the  kettle,  as  it  is 
possible  that  Miss  Berners  may  arrive  this  night."  "  Kos-ko," 
drawled  out  Tawno,  and  replaced  the  curtain.  "  Good,  do  you 
call  it?"  said  the  sharp  voice  of  his  wife;  "there  is  no  good  in 
the  matter  !  if  that  young  chap  were  not  living  with  the  rawnee  in 
the  illegal  and  uncertificated  line,  he  would  not  be  getting  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  to  fill  her  kettles."  Passing  on,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  the  spring,  where  I  filled  the  kettle,  and  then  returned 
to  the  dingle. 

Placing  the  kettle  upon  the  fire,  I  watched  it  till  it  began  to 
boil  ;  then  removing  it  from  the  top  of  the  brands,  I  placed  it 
close  beside  the  fire,  and  leaving  it  simmering,  I  retired  to  my 
tent  ;  where,  having  taken  off  my  shoes,  and  a  few  of  my  garments, 
I  lay  down  on  my  palliasse,  and  was  not  long  in  falling  asleep.  I 
believe  I  slept  soundly  for  some  time,  thinking  and  dreaming  of 
nothing  ;  suddenly,  however,  my  sleep  became  disturbed,  and  the 
subject  of  the  patterans  began  to  occupy  my  brain.  I  imagined 
that  I  saw  Ursula  tracing  her  husband,  Launcelot  Lovel,  by  means 
of  his  patterans  ;  I  imagined  that  she  had  considerable  difficulty  in 
doing  so  ;  that  she  was  occasionally  interrupted  by  parish  beadles 
and  constables,  who  asked  her  whither  she  was  travelling,  to  whom 
she  gave  various  answers.  Presently  methought  that,  as  she  was 
passing  by  a  farm-yard,  two  fierce  and  savage  dogs  flew  at  her  ;  I 
was  in  great  trouble,  I  remember,  and  wished  to  assist  her,  but 
could  not,  for  though  I  seemed  to  see  her,  I  was  still  at  a  distance  : 
and  now  it  appeared  that  she  had  escaped  from  the  dogs,  and  was 


84  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

proceeding  with  her  cart  along  a  gravelly  path  which  traversed  a 
wild  moor;  I  could  hear  the  wheels  grating  amidst  sand  and 
gravel.  The  next  moment  I  was  awake,  and  found  myself  sitting 
up  in  my  tent ;  there  was  a  glimmer  of  light  through  the  canvas 
caused  by  the  fire ;  a  feeling  of  dread  came  over  me,  which  was 
perhaps  natural,  on  starting  suddenly  from  one's  sleep  in  that  wild, 
lone  place ;  I  half- imagined  that  some  one  was  nigh  the  tent ;  the 
idea  made  me  rather  uncomfortable,  and,  to  dissipate  it,  I  lifted 
up  the  canvas  of  the  door  and  peeped  out,  and,  lo  !  I  had  an  in- 
distinct view  of  a  tall  figure  standing  by  the  tent.  "Who  is  that?" 
said  I,  whilst  I  felt  my  blood  rush  to  my  heart.  "It  is  I,"  said 
the  voice  of  Isopel  Berners;  "you  little  expected  me,  I  dare  say; 
well,  sleep  on,  I  do  not  wish  to  disturb  you."  "  But  I  was 
expecting  you,"  said  I,  recovering  myself,  "as  you  may  see  by 
the  fire  and  the  kettle.  I  will  be  with  you  in  a  moment." 

Putting  on  in  haste  the  articles  of  dress  which  I  had  flung  off, 
I  came  out  of  the  tent,  and  addressing  myself  to  Isopel,  who  was 
standing  beside  her  cart,  I  said  :  "  Just  as  I  was  about  to  retire 
to  rest  I  thought  it  possible  that  you  might  come  to-night,  and 
got  everything  in  readiness  for  you.  Now,  sit  down  by  the  fire 
whilst  I  lead  the  donkey  and  cart  to  the  place  where  you  stay  ;  I 
will  unharness  the  animal,  and  presently  come  and  join  you." 
"  I  need  not  trouble  you,"  said  Isopel ;  "  I  will  go  myself  and  see 
after  my  things."  "  We  will  go  together,"  said  I,  "  and  then 
return  and  have  some  tea."  Isopel  made  no  objection,  and  in 
about  half  an  hour  we  had  arranged  everything  at  her  quarters. 
I  then  hastened  and  prepared  tea.  Presently  Isopel  rejoined  me, 
bringing  her  stool ;  she  had  divested  herself  of  her  bonnet,  and 
her  hair  fell  over  her  shoulders;  she  sat  down,  and  I  poured  out 
the  beverage,  handing  her  a  cup.  "  Have  you  made  a  long 
journey  to-night?"  said  I.  "A  very  long  one/'  replied  Belle. 
I  have  come  nearly  twenty  miles  since  six  o'clock."  "  I  believe 
I  heard  you  coming  in  my  sleep,"  said  I ;  "did  the  dogs  above 
bark  at  you?"  "Yes,"  said  Isopel,  "  very  violently ;  did  you 
think  of  me  in  your  sleep  ?  "  "  No,"  said  I ;  "  I  was  thinking  of 
Ursula  and  something  she  had  told  me."  "  When  and  where 
was  that?"  said  Isopel.  "Yesterday  evening,"  said  I,  "  beneath 
the  dingle  hedge."  "Then  you  were  talking  with  her  beneath 
the  hedge?"  "I  was,"  said  I,  "but  only  upon  gypsy  matters. 
Do  you  know,  Belle,  that  she  has  just  been  married  to  Sylvester, 

so  that  you  need  not  think  that  she  and  I "     "She  and  you 

are  quite  at  liberty  to  sit  where  you  please,"  said  Isopel.  "  How- 
ever, young  man,"  she  continued,  dropping  her  tone,  which  she  had 


1825.]  LATE  ARRIVAL.  85 

slightly  raised,  "I  believe  what  you  said,  that  you  were  merely 
talking  about  gypsy  matters,  and  also  what  you  were  going  to 
say,  if  it  was,  as  I  suppose,  that  she  and  you  had  no  particular 
acquaintance."  Isopel  was  now  silent  for  some  time.  "  What  are 
you  thinking  of?"  said  I.  "I  was  thinking/'  said  Belle,  "how 
exceedingly  kind  it  was  of  you  to  get  everything  in  readiness  for 
me,  though  you  did  not  know  that  I  should  come."  "  I  had  a 
presentiment  that  you  would  come,"  said  I ;  "  but  you  forget  that 
I  have  prepared  the  kettle  for  you  before,  though  it  was  true 
I  was  then  certain  that  you  would  come."  "  I  had  not  forgotten 
your  doing  so,  young  man,"  said  Belle;  "but  I  was  beginning  to 
think  that  you  were  utterly  selfish,  caring  for  nothing  but  the 
gratification  of  your  own  selfish  whims."  "  I  am  very  fond  of 
having  my  own  way,"  said  I,  "  but  utterly  selfish  I  am  not,  as  I 
dare  say  I  shall  frequently  prove  to  you.  You  will  often  find  the 
kettle  boiling  when  you  come  home."  "  Not  heated  by  you,"  said 
Isopel,  with  a  sigh.  "  By  whom  else?"  said  I ;  "surely  you  are 
not  thinking  of  driving  me  away?  "  "You  have  as  much  right 
here  as  myself,"  said  Isopel,  "as  I  have  told  you  before;  but  I 
must  be  going  myself."  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  we  can  go  together; 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  rather  tired  of  this  place."  "  Our 
paths  must  be  separate,"  said  Belle.  "Separate,"  said  I;  "what 
do  you  mean  ?  I  shan't  let  you  go  alone,  I  shall  go  with  you  ; 
and  you  know  the  road  is  as  free  to  me  as  to  you ;  besides,  you 
can't  think  of  parting  company  with  me,  considering  how  much 
you  would  lose  by  doing  so ;  remember  that  you  know  scarcely 
anything  of  the  Armenian  language;  now,  to  learn  Armenian 
from  me  would  take  you  twenty  years." 

Belle  faintly  smiled.  "Come,"  said  I,  "take  another  cup  of 
tea."  Belle  took  another  cup  of  tea,  and  yet  another;  we  had 
some  indifferent  conversation,  after  which  I  arose  and  gave  her 
donkey  a  considerable  feed  of  corn.  Belle  thanked  me,  shook 
me  by  the  hand,  and  then  went  to  her  own  tabernacle,  and  I 
returned  to  mine. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


ON  the  following  morning,  after  breakfasting  with  Belle,  who  was 
silent  and  melancholy,  I  left  her  in  the  dingle,  and  took  a  stroll 
amongst  the  neighbouring  lanes.  After  some  time  I  thought  I 
would  pay  a  visit  to  the  landlord  of  the  public-house,  whom  I  had 
not  seen  since  the  day  when  he  communicated  to  me  his  intention 
of  changing  his  religion.  I  therefore  directed  my  steps  to  the 
house,  and  on  entering  it  found  the  landlord  standing  in  the 
kitchen.  Just  then  two  mean-looking  fellows,  who  had  been 
drinking  at  one  of  the  tables,  and  who  appeared  to  be  the  only 
customers  in  the  house,  got  up,  brushed  past  the  landlord,  and 
saying  in  a  surly  tone,  we  shall  pay  you  some  time  or  other,  took 
their  departure.  "  That's  the  way  they  serve  me  now,"  said  the 
landlord  with  a  sigh.  "  Do  you  know  those  fellows,"  I  demanded, 
"  since  you  let  them  go  away  in  your  debt?  "  "  I  know  nothing 
about  them,"  said  the  landlord,  "  save  that  they  are  a  couple  of 
scamps."  "  Then  why  did  you  let  them  go  away  without  paying 
you  ? "  said  I.  "  I  had  not  the  heart  to  stop  them,"  said  the 
landlord;  "and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  everybody  serves  me  so 
now,  and  I  suppose  they  are  right,  for  a  child  could  flog  me." 
"  Nonsense,"  said  I ;  "  behave  more  like  a  man,  and  with  respect 
to  those  two  fellows  run  after  them,  I  will  go  with  you,  and  if 
they  refuse  to  pay  the  reckoning  I  will  help  you  to  shake  some 
money  out  of  their  clothes."  "  Thank  you,"  said  the  landlord  ; 
"  but  as  they  are  gone,  let  them  go  on.  What  they  have  drank 
is  not  of  much  consequence."  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 
said  I,  staring  at  the  landlord,  who  appeared  strangely  altered ; 
his  features  were  wild  and  haggard,  his  formerly  bluff  cheeks  were 
considerably  sunken  in,  and  his  figure  had  lost  much  of  its  plump- 
ness. "  Have  you  changed  your  religion  already,  and  has  the 
fellow  in  black  commanded  you  to  fast  ?  "  "  I  have  not  changed 
my  religion  yet,"  said  the  landlord  with  a  kind  of  shudder ;  "  I 
am  to  change  it  publicly  this  day  fortnight,  and  the  idea  of  doing 
so — I  do  not  mind  telling  you — preys  much  upon  my  mind; 

(86) 


1825.]  ^  DOWN  PIN. 


moreover,  the  noise  of  the  thing  has  got  abroad,  and  everybody  is 
laughing  at  me,  and  what's  more,  coming  and  drinking  my  beer, 
and  going  away  without  paying  for  it,  whilst  I  feel  myself  like  one 
bewitched,  wishing  but  not  daring  to  take  my  own  part.  Confound 
the  fellow  in  black,  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him  !  yet  what  can  I 
do  without  him  ?  The  brewer  swears  that  unless  I  pay  him  fifty 
pounds  within  a  fortnight  he'll  send  a  distress  warrant  into  the 
house,  and  take  all  I  have.  My  poor  niece  is  crying  in  the  room 
above ;  and  I  am  thinking  of  going  into  the  stable  and  hanging  my- 
self; and  perhaps  it's  the  best  thing  I  can  do,  for  it's  better  to 
hang  myself  before  selling  my  soul  than  afterwards,  as  I'm  sure  I 
should,  like  Judas  Iscariot,  whom  my  poor  niece,  who  is  somewhat 
religiously  inclined,  has  been  talking  to  me  about."  "  I  wish  I 
could  assist  you,"  said  I,  "with  money,  but  that  is  quite  out  of 
my  power.  However,  I  can  give  you  a  piece  of  advice.  Don't 
change  your  religion  by  any  means  ;  you  can't  hope  to  prosper  if 
you  do ;  and  it  the  brewer  chooses  to  deal  hardly  with  you,  let 
him.  Everybody  would  respect  you  ten  times  more  provided  you 
allowed  yourself  to  be  turned  into  the  roads  rather  than  change 
your  religion,  than  if  you  got  fifty  pounds  for  renouncing  it."  "  I 
am  half-inclined  to  take  your  advice,"  said  the  landlord ;  "  only,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  feel  quite  low,  without  any  heart  in  me." 
"Come  into  the  bar,"  said  I,  "and  let  us  have  something 
together — you  need  not  be  afraid  of  my  not  paying  for  what  I 
order." 

We  went  into  the  bar-room,  where  the  landlord  and  I  dis- 
cussed between  us  two  bottles  of  strong  ale,  which  he  said  were 
part  of  the  last  six  which  he  had  in  his  possession.  At  first  he 
wished  to  drink  sherry,  but  I  begged  him  to  do  no  such  thing, 
telling  him  that  sherry  would  do  him  no  good  under  the  present 
circumstances ;  nor,  indeed,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  under  any, 
it  being  of  all  wines  the  one  for  which  I  entertained  the  most 
contempt.  The  landlord  allowed  himself  to  be  dissuaded,  and 
after  a  glass  or  two  of  ale,  confessed  that  sherry  was  a  sickly, 
disagreeable  drink,  and  that  he  had  merely  been  in  the  habit  of 
taking  it  from  an  idea  he  had  that  it  was  genteel.  Whilst  quaffing 
our  beverage,  he  gave  me  an  account  of  the  various  mortifications 
to  which  he  had  of  late  been  subject,  dwelling  with  particular 
bitterness  on  the  conduct  of  Hunter,  who  he  said  came  every 
night  and  mouthed  him,  and  afterwards  went  away  without  pay- 
ing for  what  he  had  drank  or  smoked,  in  which  conduct  he  was 
closely  imitated  by  a  clan  of  fellows  who  constantly  attended 
him.  After  spending  several  hours  at  the  public-house  I  departed, 


88  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

not  forgetting  to  pay  for  the  two  bottles  of  ale.  The  landlord, 
before  I  went,  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  declared  that  he  had  now 
made  up  his  mind  to  stick  to  his  religion  at  all  hazards,  the 
more  especially  as  he  was  convinced  he  should  derive  no  good  by 
giving  it  up. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


IT  might  be  about  five  in  the  evening  when  I  reached  the  gypsy 
encampment.  Here  I  found  Mr.  Petulengro,  Tawno  Chikno, 
Sylvester  and  others  in  a  great  bustle,  clipping  and  trimming 
certain  ponies  and  old  horses  which  they  had  brought  with  them. 
On  inquiring  of  Jasper  the  reason  of  their  being  so  engaged,  he 
informed  me  that  they  were  getting  the  horses  ready  for  a  fair, 
which  was  to  be  held  on  the  morrow,  at  a  place  some  miles 
distant,  at  which  they  should  endeavour  to  dispose  of  them, 
adding :  "  Perhaps,  brother,  you  will  go  with  us,  provided  you 
have  nothing  better  to  do  ?  "  Not  having  any  particular  engage- 
ment, I  assured  him  that  I  should  have  great  pleasure  in  being 
of  the  party.  It  was  agreed  that  we  should  start  early  on  the 
following  morning.  Thereupon  I  descended  into  the  dingle. 
Belle  was  sitting  before  the  fire,  at  which  the  kettle  was  boiling. 
"Were  you  waiting  for  me?"  I  inquired.  "Yes/'  said  Belle; 
"I  thought  that  you  would  come,  and  I  waited  for  you."  "That 
was  very  kind,"  said  I.  "  Not  half  so  kind,"  said  she,  "  as  it  was 
of  you  to  get  everything  ready  for  me  in  the  dead  of  last  night, 
when  there  was  scarcely  a  chance  of  my  coming."  The  tea- 
things  were  brought  forward,  and  we  sat  down.  "  Have  you 
been  far?"  said  Belle.  "Merely  to  that  public-house,"  said  I, 
"  to  which  you  directed  me  on  the  second  day  of  our  acquaint- 
ance." "  Young  men  should  not  make  a  habit  of  visiting  public- 
houses,"  said  Belle ;  "  they  are  bad  places."  "  They  may  be  so  to 
some  people,"  said  I,  "  but  I  do  not  think  the  worst  public- 
house  in  England  could  do  me  any  harm."  "  Perhaps  you  are  so 
bad  already,"  said  Belle,  with  a  smile,  "  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  spoil  you."  "  How  dare  you  catch  at  my  words  ?  " 
said  I ;  "  come,  I  will  make  you  pay  for  doing  so — you  shall 
have  this  evening  the  longest  lesson  in  Armenian  which  I  have 
yet  inflicted  upon  you."  "You  may  well  say  inflicted,"  said 
Belle,  "but  pray  spare  me.  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  anything 
about  Armenian,  especially  this  evening."  "  Why  this  evening?  " 
said  I.  Belle  made  no  answer.  "I  will  not  spare  you,"  said 

(89) 


90  THE  ROMANY  RYB.  [18*3. 

I ;  "  this  evening  I  intend  to  make  you  conjugate  an  Armenian 
verb."  "  Well,  be  it  so,"  said  Belle ;  "  for  this  evening  you  shall 
command."  "To  command  is  hramahyel"  said  I.  "  Ram  her 
ill,  indeed,"  said  Belle ;  "  I  do  not  wish  to  begin  with  that." 
"No,"  said  I,  "as  we  have  come  to  the  verbs,  we  will  begin 
regularly  ;  hramahyel  is  a  verb  of  the  second  conjugation.  We 
will  begin  with  the  first."  "First  of  all  tell  me,"  said  Belle, 
"  what  a  verb  is  ?  "  "A  part  of  speech,"  said  I,  "  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  dictionary,  signifies  some  action  or  passion ;  for  example, 
I  command  you,  or  I  hate  you."  "  I  have  given  you  no  cause 
to  hate  me,"  said  Belle,  looking  me  sorrowfully  in  the  face. 

"  I  was  merely  giving  two  examples,"  said  I,  "  and  neither 
was  directed  at  you.  In  those  examples,  to  command  and  hate 
are  verbs.  Belle,  in  Armenian  there  are  four  conjugations  of 
verbs ;  the  first  ends  in  a!,  the  second  in  yel,  the  third  in  out, 
and  the  fourth  in  //.  Now,  have  you  understood  me?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,  indeed,  it  will  all  end  ill,"  said  Belle.  "  Hold 
your  tongue,"  said  I,  "  or  you  will  make  me  lose  my  patience." 
"You  have  already  made  me  nearly  lose  mine,"  said  Belle. 
"Let  us  have  no  unprofitable  interruptions,"  said  I;  "the  con- 
jugations of  the  Armenian  verbs  are  neither  so  numerous  nor  so 
difficult  as  the  declensions  of  the  nouns ;  hear  that,  and  rejoice. 
Come,  we  will  begin  with  the  verb  hntal,  a  verb  of  the  first 
conjugation,  which  signifies  to  rejoice.  Come  along ;  hntam,  I 
rejoice  ;  hntas,  thou  rejoicest ;  why  don't  you  follow,  Belle  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  rejoice,  whatever  you  may  do,"  said 
Belle.  "The  chief  difficulty,  Belle,"  said  I,  "that  I  find  in 
teaching  you  the  Armenian  grammar,  proceeds  from  your  apply- 
ing to  yourself  and  me  every  example  I  give.  Rejoice,  in  this 
instance,  is  merely  an  example  of  an  Armenian  verb  of  the  first 
conjugation,  and  has  no  more  to  do  with  your  rejoicing  than  /#/, 
which  is  also  a  verb  of  the  first  conjugation,  and  which  signifies 
to  weep,  would  have  to  do  with  your  weeping,  provided  I  made 
you  conjugate  it.  Come  along;  hntam^  I  rejoice;  hntas,  thou 
rejoicest ;  tinti,  he  rejoices ;  hntamk>  we  rejoice :  now,  repeat 
those  words." 

"I  can't,"  said  Belle,  "they  sound  more  like  the  language  of 

horses  than  of  human  beings.  Do  you  take  me  for ?  "  "  For 

what  ? "  said  I.  Belle  was  silent  "  Were  you  going  to  say 
mare  ?  "  said  I.  "  Mare  !  mare  !  by-the-bye,  do  you  know,  Belle, 
that  mare  in  old  English  stands  for  woman  !  and  that  when  we 
call  a  female  an  evil  mare,  the  strict  meaning  of  the  term  is 
merely  bad  woman.  So  if  I  were  to  call  you  a  mare  without 


1825.]  DECLARATION  IN  ARMENIAN.  gi 

prefixing  bad,  you  must  not  be  offended."  "But  I  should 
though,"  said  Belle.  "  I  was  merely  attempting  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  a  philological  fact,"  said  I.  "  If  mare,  which  in 
old  English,  and  likewise  in  vulgar  English,  signifies  a  woman, 
sounds  the  same  as  mare,  which  in  modern  and  polite  English 
signifies  a  female  horse,  I  can't  help  it.  There  is  no  such  con- 
fusion of  sounds  in  Armenian,  not,  at  least,  in  the  same  instance. 
Belle,  in  Armenian,  woman  is  ghin,  the  same  word,  by-the-bye, 
as  our  queen,  whereas  mare  is  madagh  tzi,  which  signifies  a 
female  horse ;  and  perhaps  you  will  permit  me  to  add,  that  a 
hard-mouthed  jade  is,  in  Armenian,  madagh  tzi  hsdierah" 

"  I  can't  bear  this  much  longer,"  said  Belle.  "  Keep  yourself 
quiet,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish  to  be  gentle  with  you;  and  to  convince 
you,  we  will  skip  hntal,  and  also  for  the  present  verbs  of  the  first 
conjugation  and  proceed  to  the  second.  Belle,  I  will  now  select 
for  you  to  conjugate  the  prettiest  verb  in  Armenian  ;  not  only  of 
the  second,  but  also  of  all  the  four  conjugations ;  that  verb  is 
sirieL  Here  is  the  present  tense :  siriem,  siries,  sire,  siriemk,  sirek, 
sirien.  You  observe  that  it  runs  on  just  in  the  same  manner  as 
hntal,  save  and  except  that  the  e  is  substituted  for  a ;  and  it  will  be  as 
well  to  tell  you  that  almost  the  only  difference  between  the  second, 
third  and  fourth  conjugations,  and  the  first,  is  the  substituting  in 
the  present,  preterite  and  other  tenses,  e  or  ou  or  /  for  a ;  so  you 
see  that  the  Armenian  verbs  are  by  no  means  difficult.  Come  on, 
Belle,  and  say  siriem"  Belle  hesitated.  "  Pray  oblige  me,  Belle, 
by  saying  siriem  I"  Belle  still  appeared  to  hesitate.  "You  must 
admit,  Belle,  that  it  is  much  softer  than  hntam"  "  It  is  so," 
said  Belle;  "and  to  oblige  you  I  will  say  siriem."  "Very  well 
indeed,  Belle,"  said  I.  "  No  vartabied,  or  doctor,  could  have 
pronounced  it  better ;  and  now,  to  show  you  how  verbs  act  upon 
pronouns  in  Armenian,  I  will  say  siriem  zkiez.  Please  to  repeat 
siriem  zkiez  \  "  "  Siriem  zkiez  \  "  said  Belle  ;  "  that  last  word  is 
very  hard  to  say."  "Sorry  that  you  think  so,  Belle,"  said  I. 
"  Now  please  to  say  sirid  zis."  Belle  did  so.  "  Exceedingly 
well,"  said  I.  "  Now  say,  yerani  the  sireir  zis."  "  Yerani  the 
sireir  zis,"  said  Belle.  "  Capital !  "  said  I ;  "  you  have  now  said, 
I  love  you — love  me —  ah  !  would  that  you  would  love  me  !  " 

"  And  I  have  said  all  these  things  ?  "  said  Belle.  "  Yes,"  said 
I ;  "  you  have  said  them  in  Armenian."  "  I  would  have  said  them 
in  no  language  that  I  understood,"  said  Belle;  "and  it  was  very 
wrong  of  you  to  take  advantage  of  my  ignorance,  and  make  me 
say  such  things."  "  Why  so  ?  "  said  I ;  "if  you  said  them,  I  said 
them  too."  "You  did  so,"  said  Belle ;  "  but  I  believe  you  were 


92  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

merely  bantering  and  jeering."  "As  I  told  you  before,  Belle," 
said  I,  "  the  chief  difficulty  which  I  find  in  teaching  you  Armen- 
ian proceeds  from  your  persisting  in  applying  to  yourself  and  me 
every  example  I  give."  "Then  you  meant  nothing  after  all," 
said  Belle,  raising  her  voice.  "  Let  us  proceed,"  said  I ;  "  sirietsi, 
I  loved."  "  You  never  loved  any  one  but  yourself,"  said  Belle  ; 

"and  what's  more "  "  Sirietsits,  I  will  love,"  said  I; 

"siriestsies,  thou  wilt  love."  "Never  one  so  thoroughly  heart- 
less," said  Belle.  "I  tell  you  what,  Belle,  you  are  becoming 
intolerable,  but  we  will  change  the  verb ;  or  rather  I  will  now 
proceed  to  tell  you  here,  that  some  of  the  Armenian  conjugations 
have  their  anomalies  ;  one  species  of  these  I  wish  to  bring  before 
your  notice.  As  old  Villotte  says — from  whose  work  I  first  con- 
trived to  pick  up  the  rudiments  of  Armenian — '  Est  verborum 

transitivorum,  quorum  infinitivus '  but  I  forgot,  you  don't 

understand  Latin.  He  says  there  are  certain  transitive  verbs, 
whose  infinitive  is  in  outsaniel;  the  preterite  in  outsi\  the  impera- 
tive in  oue ;  for  example — parghatsoutsaniem,  I  irritate 

"  You  do,  you  do,"  said  Belle ;  "  and  it  will  be  better  for  both 
of  us,  if  you  leave  off  doing  so." 

"  You  would  hardly  believe,  Belle,"  said  I,  "  that  the  Armen- 
ian is  in  some  respects  closely  connected  with  the  Irish,  but  so  it 
is ;  for  example,  that  word  parghatsoutsaniem  is  evidently  derived 
from  the  same  root  as  feargaim,  which,  in  Irish,  is  as  much  as  to 
say  I  vex." 

"  You  do,  indeed,"  said  Belle,  sobbing. 

"  But  how  do  you  account  for  it  ?  " 

"  O  man,  man ! "  said  Belle,  bursting  into  tears,  "  for  what 
purpose  do  you  ask  a  poor  ignorant  girl  such  a  question,  unless 
it  be  to  vex  and  irritate  her  ?  If  you  wish  to  display  your  learn- 
ing, do  so  to  the  wise  and  instructed,  and  not  to  me,  who  can 
scarcely  read  or  write.  Oh,  leave  off  your  nonsense ;  yet  I  know 
you  will  not  do  so,  for  it  is  the  breath  of  your  nostrils  !  I  could 
have  wished  we  shoud  have  parted  in  kindness,  but  you  will  not 
permit  it.  I  have  deserved  better  at  your  hands  than  such  treat- 
ment. The  whole  time  we  have  kept  company  together  in  this 
place,  I  have  scarcely  had  one  kind  word  from  you,  but  the 

strangest "  and  here  the  voice  of  Belle  was  drowned  in  her 

sobs. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  take  on  so,  dear  Belle,"  said  I.  "  I 
really  have  given  you  no  cause  to  be  so  unhappy  ;  surely  teaching 
you  a  little  Armenian  was  a  very  innocent  kind  ot  diversion." 

"Yes,  but  you  went  on  so  long,  and  in  such  a  strange  way, 


1825.]  "AIR  YEW  GHIN."  93 

and  made  me  repeat  such  strange  examples,  as  you  call  them, 
that  I  could  not  bear  it." 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Belle,  it's  my  way ;  and  I  have 
dealt  with  you  just  as  I  would  with " 

"A  hard-mouthed  jade,"  said  Belle,  "and  you  practising 
your  horse-witchery  upon  her.  I  have  been  of  an  unsubdued 
spirit,  I  acknowledge,  but  I  was  always  kind  to  you ;  and  if  you 
have  made  me  cry,  it's  a  poor  thing  to  boast  of." 

11  Boast  of ! "  said  I ;  "a  pretty  thing  indeed  to  boast  of;  I  had 
no  idea  of  making  you  cry.  Come,  I  beg  your  pardon ;  what 
more  can  I  do  ?  Come,  cheer  up,  Belle.  You  were  talking  of 
parting ;  don't  let  us  part,  but  depart,  and  that  together." 

"  Our  ways  lie  different,"  said  Belle. 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  should,"  said  I.  "  Come,  let  us  be  oft 
to  America  together." 

"  To  America  together  ?  "  said  Belle,  looking  full  at  me. 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "where  we  will  settle  down  in  some  forest, 
and  conjugate  the  verb  siriel  conjugally." 

"Conjugally?"  said  Belle. 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "as  man  and  wife  in  America,  air  yew  ghin  ". 

"  You  are  jesting,  as  usual,"  said  Belle. 

11  Not  I,  indeed.  Come,  Belle,  make  up  your  mind,  and  let 
us  be  off  to  America ;  and  leave  priests,  humbug,  learning  and 
languages  behind  us." 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  jesting,"  said  Belle ;  "  but  I  can  hardly 
entertain  your  offers ;  however,  young  man,  I  thank  you." 

"  You  had  better  make  up  your  mind,  at  once,"  said  I,  "  and 
let  us  be  off.  I  shan't  make  a  bad  husband,  I  assure  you. 
Perhaps  you  think  I  am  not  worthy  of  you  ?  To  convince  you, 
Belle,  that  I  am,  I  am  ready  to  try  a  fall  with  you  this  moment 
upon  the  grass.  Brynhilda,  the  valkyrie,  swore  that  no  one  should 
marry  her  who  could  not  fling  her  down.  Perhaps  you  have 
done  the  same.  The  man  who  eventually  married  her,  got  a  friend 
of  his,  who  was  called  Sigurd,  the  serpent-killer,  to  wrestle  with 
her,  disguising  him  in  his  own  armour.  Sigurd  flung  her  down, 
and  won  her  for  his  friend,  though  he  loved  her  himself.  I  shall 
not  use  a  similar  deceit,  nor  employ  Jasper  Petulengro  to  per- 
sonate me — so  get  up,  Belle,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  fling  you 
down." 

"  I  require  no  such  thing  of  you,  or  anybody,"  said  Belle ; 
"you  are  beginning  to  look  rather  wild." 

"  I  every  now  and  then  do,"  said  I ;  "  come,  Belle,  what  do 
you  say?" 


94  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

11 1  will  say  nothing  at  present  on  the  subject,"  said  Belle ;  "  I 
must  have  time  to  consider." 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  said  I ;  "  to-morrow  I  go  to  a  fair  with 
Mr.  Petulengro,  perhaps  you  will  consider  whilst  I  am  away. 
"Come,  Belle,  let  us  have  some  more  tea.  I  wonder  whether 
we  shall  be  able  to  procure  tea  as  good  as  this  in  the  American 
forest" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  was  about  the  dawn  of  day  when  I  was  awakened  by  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Petulengro  shouting  from  the  top  of  the  dingle,  and  bidding 
me  get  up.  I  arose  instantly,  and  dressed  myself  for  the  expedi- 
tion to  the  fair.  On  leaving  my  tent,  I  was  surprised  to  observe 
Belle,  entirely  dressed,  standing  close  to  her  own  little  encamp- 
ment. "  Dear  me,"  said  I,  "  I  little  expected  to  find  you  up  so 
early.  I  suppose  Jasper's  call  awakened  you,  as  it  did  me."  "I 
merely  lay  down  in  my  things,"  said  Belle,  "  and  have  not  slept 
during  the  night."  "  And  why  did  you  not  take  off  your  things 
and  go  to  sleep?"  said  I.  "I  did  not  undress,"  said  Belle, 
"  because  I  wished  to  be  in  readiness  to  bid  you  farewell  when 
you  departed;  and  as  for  sleeping,  I  could  not."  "Well,  God 
bless  you ! "  said  I,  taking  Belle  by  the  hand.  Belle  made  no 
answer,  and  I  observed  that  her  hand  was  very  cold.  "  What  is 
the  matter  with  you?"  said  I,  looking  her  in  the  face.  Belle 
looked  at  me  for  a  moment  in  the  eyes,  and  then  cast  down  her 
own — her  features  were  very  pale.  "You  are  really  unwell," 
said  I,  "  I  had  better  not  go  to  the  fair,  but  stay  here,  and  take 
care  of  you."  "No,"  said  Belle,  "pray  go,  I  am  not  unwell" 
"Then  go  to  your  tent,"  said  I,  "and  do  not  endanger  your 
health  by  standing  abroad  in  the  raw  morning  air.  God  bless 
you,  Belle,  I  shall  be  home  to-night,  by  which  time  I  expect  you 
will  have  made  up  your  mind ;  if  not,  another  lesson  in  Armenian, 
however  late  the  hour  be."  I  then  wrung  Belle's  hand,  and 
ascended  to  the  plain  above. 

I  found  the  Romany  party  waiting  for  me,  and  everything  in 
readiness  for  departing.  Mr.  Petulengro  and  Tawno  Chikno  were 
mounted  on  two  old  horses.  The  rest,  who  intended  to  go  to  the 
fair,  amongst  whom  were  two  or  three  women,  were  on  foot.  On 
arriving  at  the  extremity  of  the  plain,  I  looked  towards  the  dingle. 
Isopel  Berners  stood  at  the  mouth,  the  beams  of  the  early  morn- 
ing sun  shone  full  on  her  noble  face  and  figure.  I  waved  my 
hand  towards  her.  She  slowly  lifted  up  her  right  arm.  I  turned 
away,  and  never  saw  Isopel  Berners  again. 

My  companions  and  myself  proceeded  on  our  way.     In  about 

(95) 


96  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

two  hours  we  reached  the  place  where  the  fair  was  to  be  held. 
After  breakfasting  on  bread  and  cheese  and  ale  behind  a  broken 
stone  wall,  we  drove  our  animals  to  the  fair.  The  fair  was  a 
common  cattle  and  horse  fair :  there  was  little  merriment  going 
on,  but  there  was  no  lack  of  business.  By  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  people  had  disposed  of 
their  animals  at  what  they  conceived  very  fair  prices — they  were 
all  in  high  spirits,  and  Jasper  proposed  to  adjourn  to  a  public- 
house.  As  we  were  proceeding  to  one,  a  very  fine  horse,  led  by 
a  jockey,  made  its  appearance  on  the  ground.  Mr.  Petulengro 
stopped  short,  and  looked  at  it  steadfastly :  "  Fino  covar  dove 
odoy  sas  miro — a  fine  thing  were  that  if  it  were  but  mine  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  If  you  covet  it,"  said  I,  "  why  do  you  not  purchase 
it  ?  "  "  We  low  gyptians  never  buy  animals  of  that  description  ; 
if  we  did  we  could  never  sell  them,  and  most  likely  should  be  had 
up  as  horse-stealers."  "  Then  why  did  you  say  just  now, '  It  were 
a  fine  thing  if  it  were  but  yours  ? '  "  said  I.  "  We  gyptians  always 
say  so  when  we  see  anything  that  we  admire.  An  animal  like 
that  is  not  intended  for  a  little  hare  like  me,  but  for  some  grand 
gentleman  like  yourself.  I  say,  brother,  do  you  buy  that  horse  ! " 
"How  should  I  buy  the  horse,  you  foolish  person?"  said  I. 
"Buy  the  horse,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  if  you  have 
not  the  money  I  can  lend  it  you,  though  I  be  of  lower  Egypt." 
"You  talk  nonsense,"  said  I;  "however,  I  wish  you  would 
ask  the  man  the  price  of  it."  Mr.  Petulengro,  going  up  to  the 
jockey,  inquired  the  price  of  the  horse.  The  man,  looking  at  him 
scornfully,  made  no  reply.  "  Young  man,"  said  I,  going  up  to 
the  jockey,  "  do  me  the  favour  to  tell  me  the  price  of  that  horse, 
as  I  suppose  it  is  to  sell."  The  jockey,  who  was  a  surly-looking 
man,  of  about  fifty,  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  then,  after  some 
hesitation,  said,  laconically,  "Seventy".  "Thank  you,"  said  I, 
and  turned  away.  "  Buy  that  horse,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  coming 
after  me  ;  "  the  dook  tells  me  that  in  less  than  three  months  he 
will  be  sold  for  twice  seventy."  "  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him,"  said  I ;  "  besides,  Jasper,  I  don't  like  his  tail.  Did  you 
observe  what  a  mean,  scrubby  tail  he  has  ?  "  "  What  a  fool  you 
are,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro  ;  that  very  tail  of  his  shows  his 
breeding.  No  good  bred  horse  ever  yet  carried  a  fine  tail — 'tis 
your  scrubby-tailed  horses  that  are  your  out-and-outers.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  Syntax,  brother?  That  tail  of  his  puts  me  in  mind 
of  Syntax.  Well,  I  say  nothing  more,  have  your  own  way — all 
I  wonder  at  is,  that  a  horse  like  him  was  ever  brought  to  such 
a  fair  of  dog  cattle  as  this." 


1 825.]  THE  FAIR.  97 

We  then  made  the  best  of  our  way  to  a  public-house,  where 
we  had  some  refreshment.  I  then  proposed  returning  to  the 
encampment,  but  Mr.  Petulengro  declined,  and  remained  drinking 
with  his  companions  till  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when 
various  jockeys  from  the  fair  came  in.  After  some  conversation 
a  jockey  proposed  a  game  of  cards ;  and  in  a  little  time,  Mr. 
Petulengro  and  another  gypsy  sat  down  to  play  a  game  of  cards 
with  two  of  the  jockeys. 

Though  not  much  acquainted  with  cards,  I  soon  conceived 
a  suspicion  that  the  jockeys  were  cheating  Mr.  Petulengro  and 
his  companion.  I  therefore  called  Mr.  Petulengro  aside,  and  gave 
him  a  hint  to  that  effect.  Mr.  Petulengro,  however,  instead  of 
thanking  me,  told  me  to  mind  my  own  bread  and  butter,  and 
forthwith  returned  to  his  game.  I  continued  watching  the  players 
for  some  hours.  The  gypsies  lost  considerably,  and  I  saw  clearly 
that  the  jockeys  were  cheating  them  most  confoundedly.  I  there- 
fore once  more  called  Mr.  Petulengro  aside,  and  told  him  that 
the  jockeys  were  cheating  him,  conjuring  him  to  return  to  the 
encampment.  Mr.  Petulengro,  who  was  by  this  time  somewhat 
the  worse  for  liquor,  now  fell  into  a  passion,  swore  several  oaths, 
and  asking  me  who  had  made  me  a  Moses  over  him  and  his 
brethren,  told  me  to  return  to  the  encampment  by  myself.  In- 
censed at  the  unworthy  return  which  my  well-meant  words  had 
received,  I  forthwith  left  the  house,  and  having  purchased  a  few 
articles  of  provision,  I  set  out  for  the  dingle  alone.  It  was  a  dark 
night  when  I  reached  it,  and  descending  I  saw  the  glimmer  of  a 
fire  from  the  depths  of  the  dingle ;  my  heart  beat  with  fond  anti- 
cipation of  a  welcome.  "  Isopel  Berners  is  waiting  for  me,"  said 
I,  "and  the  first  word  that  I  shall  hear  from  her  lips  is  that  she 
has  made  up  her  mind.  We  shall  go  to  America,  and  be  so  happy 
together."  On  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  dingle,  however,  I  saw 
seated  near  the  fire,  beside  which  stood  the  kettle  simmering,  not 
Isopel  Berners,  but  a  gypsy  girl,  who  told  me  that  Miss  Berners 
when  she  went  away  had  charged  her  to  keep  up  the  fire,  and 
have  the  kettle  boiling  against  my  arrival.  Startled  at  these  words, 
I  inquired  at  what  hour  Isopel  had  left,  and  whither  she  was 
gone,  and  was  told  that  she  had  left  the  dingle,  with  her  cart, 
about  two  hours  after  I  departed ;  but  where  she  was  gone  she* 
the  girl,  did  not  know.  I  then  asked  whether  she  had  left  no 
message,  and  the  girl  replied  that  she  had  left  none,  but  had 
merely  given  directions  about  the  kettle  and  fire,  putting,  at  the 
same  time,  sixpence  into  her  hand.  "Very  strange,"  thought  I; 
then  dismissing  the  gypsy  girl  I  sat  down  by  the  fire.  I  had  no 

7 


98  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

wish  for  tea,  but  sat  looking  on  the  embers,  wondering  what  could 
be  the  motive  of  the  sudden  departure  of  Isopel.  "Does  she 
mean  to  return?"  thought  I  to  myself.  "Surely  she  means  to 
return,"  Hope  replied,  "  or  she  would  not  have  gone  away  without 
leaving  any  message "  ;  "  and  yet  she  could  scarcely  mean  to 
return,  muttered  Foreboding,  or  she  would  assuredly  have  left 
some  message  with  the  girl."  I  then  thought  to  myself  what  a 
hard  thing  it  would  be,  if,  after  having  made  up  my  mind  to 
assume  the  yoke  of  matrimony,  I  should  be  disappointed  of 
the  woman  of  my  choice.  "Well,  after  all,"  thought  I,  "I  can 
scarcely  be  disappointed ;  if  such  an  ugly  scoundrel  as  Sylvester 
had  no  difficulty  in  getting  such  a  nice  wife  as  Ursula,  surely  I, 
who  am  not  a  tenth  part  so  ugly,  cannot  fail  to  obtain  the  hand 
of  Isopel  Berners,  uncommonly  fine  damsel  though  she  be. 
Husbands  do  not  grow  upon  hedgerows ;  she  is  merely  gone  after 
a  little  business  and  will  return  to-morrow." 

Comforted  in  some  degree  by  these  hopeful  imaginings,  I 
retired  to  my  tent,  and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NOTHING  occurred  to  me  of  any  particular  moment  during  the 
following  day.  Isopel  Berners  did  not  return ;  but  Mr.  Petu- 
lengro  and  his  companions  came  home  from  the  fair  early  in  the 
morning.  When  I  saw  him,  which  was  about  midday,  I  found 
him  with  his  face  bruised  and  swelled.  It  appeared  that,  some 
time  after  I  had  left  him,  he  himself  perceived  that  the  jockeys 
with  whom  he  was  playing  cards  were  cheating  him  and  his 
companion ;  a  quarrel  ensued,  which  terminated  in  a  fight 
between  Mr.  Petulengro  and  one  of  the  jockeys,  which  lasted 
some  time,  and  in  which  Mr.  Petulengro,  though  he  eventually 
came  off  victor,  was  considerably  beaten.  His  bruises,  in  con- 
junction with  his  pecuniary  loss,  which  amounted  to  about  seven 
pounds,  were  the  cause  of  his  being  much  out  of  humour ;  before 
night,  however,  he  had  returned  to  his  usual  philosophic  frame  of 
mind,  and,  coming  up  to  me  as  I  was  walking  about,  apologised 
lor  his  behaviour  on  the  preceding  day,  and  assured  me  that  he 
was  determined,  from  that  time  forward,  never  to  quarrel  with  a 
friend  for  giving  him  good  advice. 

Two  more  days  passed,  and  still  Isopel  Berners  did  not  return. 
Gloomy  thoughts  and  forebodings  filled  my  mind.  During  the 
day  I  wandered  about  the  neighbouring  roads  in  the  hopes  of 
catching  an  early  glimpse  of  her  and  her  returning  vehicle,  and 
at  night  lay  awake,  tossing  about  on  my  hard  couch,  listening  to 
the  rustle  of  every  leaf,  and  occasionally  thinking  that  I  heard 
the  sound  of  her  wheels  upon  the  distant  road.  Once  at  mid- 
night, just  as  I  was  about  to  fall  into  unconsciousness,  I  suddenly 
started  up,  for  I  was  convinced  that  I  heard  the  sound  of  wheels. 
I  listened  most  anxiously,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  striking 
against  stones  was  certainly  plain  enough.  "  She  comes  at  last," 
thought  I,  and  for  a  few  moments  I  felt  as  if  a  mountain  had 
been  removed  from  my  breast ;  "  here  she  comes  at  last,  now, 
how  shall  I  receive  her?  Oh,"  thought  I,  "I  will  receive  her 
rather  coolly,  just  as  if  I  was  not  particularly  anxious  about  her 
— that's  the  way  to  manage  these  women."  The  next  moment 

(99) 


too  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [18*5. 

the  sound  became  very  loud,  rather  too  loud,  I  thought,  to  pro- 
ceed from  her  wheels,  and  then  by  degrees  became  fainter. 
Rushing  out  of  my  tent,  I  hurried  up  the  path  to  the  top  of  the 
dingle,  where  I  heard  the  sound  distinctly  enough,  but  it  was 
going  from  me,  and  evidently  proceeded  from  something  much 
larger  than  the  cart  of  Isopel.  I  could,  moreover,  hear  the 
stamping  of  a  horse's  hoof  at  a  lumbering  trot.  Those  only 
whose  hopes  have  been  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch,  and  then 
suddenly  dashed  down,  can  imagine  what  I  felt  at  that  moment; 
and  yet  when  I  returned  to  my  lonely  tent,  and  lay  down  on  my 
hard  pallet,  the  voice  of  conscience  told  me  that  the  misery  I 
was  then  undergoing  I  had  fully  merited,  from  the  unkind  manner 
in  which  I  had  intended  to  receive  her,  when  for  a  brief  moment 
I  supposed  that  she  had  returned. 

It  was  on  the  morning  after  this  affair,  and  the  fourth,  if  I 
forget  not,  from  the  time  of  Isopel's  departure,  that,  as  I  was 
seated  on  my  stone  at  the  bottom  of  the  dingle,  getting  my 
breakfast,  I  heard  an  unknown  voice  from  the  path  above — 
apparently  that  of  a  person  descending — exclaim  :  "  Here's  a 
strange  place  to  bring  a  letter  to  "  ;  and  presently  an  old  woman, 
with  a  belt  round  her  middle,  to  which  was  attached  a  leathern 
bag,  made  her  appearance,  and  stood  before  me. 

"Well,  if  I  ever  !"  said  she,  as  she  looked  about  her.  "  My 
good  gentlewoman,"  said  I,  "pray  what  may  you  please  to 
want?"  "Gentlewoman!"  said  the  old  dame,  " please  to  want 
— well,  I  call  that  speaking  civilly,  at  any  rate.  It  is  true,  civil 
words  cost  nothing;  nevertheless,  we  do  not  always  get  them. 
What  I  please  to  want  is  to  deliver  a  letter  to  a  young  man  in 
this  place;  perhaps  you  be  he?"  "What's  the  name  on  the 
letter?"  said  I,  getting  up,  and  going  to  her.  "There  is  no 
name  upon  it,"  said  she,  taking  a  letter  out  of  her  scrip,  and 
looking  at  it.  "  It  is  directed  to  the  young  man  in  Mumpers' 
Dingle."  "Then  it  is  for  me,  I  make  no  doubt,"  said  I,  stretch- 
ing out  my  hand  to  take  it  "  Please  to  pay  me  ninepence  first," 
said  the  old  woman.  "  However,"  said  she,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "civility  is  civility,  and,  being  rather  a  scarce  article, 
should  meet  with  some  return.  Here's  the  letter,  young  man, 
and  I  hope  you  will  pay  for  it ;  for  if  you  do  not  I  must  pay  the 
postage  myself."  "You  are  the  postwoman,  I  suppose,"  said  I, 
as  I  took  the  letter.  "  I  am  the  postman's  mother,"  said  the  old 
woman ;  "  but  as  he  has  a  wide  beat,  I  help  him  as  much  as  I 
can,  and  I  generally  carry  letters  to  places  like  this,  to  which  he 
is  afraid  to  come  himself  "  You  say  the  postage  is  ninepence," 


1825.]  TI*E  POSTWOMAN.  101 

said  I ;  "  here's  a  shilling."  "  Well,  I  call  that  honourable,"  said 
the  old  woman,  taking  the  shilling,  and  putting  it  into  her 
pocket;  "here's  your  change,  young  man,"  said  she,  offering 
me  threepence.  "  Pray  keep  that  for  yourself,"  said  I ;  "  you 
deserve  it  for  your  trouble."  "  Well,  I  call  that  genteel,"  said  the 
old  woman;  "and  as  one  good  turn  deserves  another,  since  you 
look  as  if  you  couldn't  read,  I  will  read  your  letter  for  you.  Let's 
see  it;  it's  from  some  young  woman  or  other,  I  dare  say." 
"Thank  you,"  said  I,  "but  I  can  read."  "All  the  better  for 
you,"  said  the  old  woman ;  "  your  being  able  to  read  will  fre- 
quently save  you  a  penny,  for  that's  the  charge  I  generally  make 
for  reading  letters ;  though,  as  you  behaved  so  genteelly  to  me,  I 
should  have  charged  you  nothing.  Well,  if  you  can  read,  why 
don't  you  open  the  letter,  instead  of  keeping  it  hanging  between 
your  finger  and  thumb ?  "  "I  am  in  no  hurry  to  open  it,"  said 
I,  with  a  sigh.  The  old  woman  looked  at  me  for  a  moment. 
"Well,  young  man,"  said  she,  "there  are  some — especially  those 
who  can  read — who  don't  like  to  open  their  letters  when  anybody 
is  by,  more  especially  when  they  come  from  young  women. 
Well,  I  won't  intrude  upon  you,  but  leave  you  alone  with  your 
letter.  I  wish  it  may  contain  something  pleasant.  God  bless 
you,"  and  with  these  words  she  departed. 

I  sat  down  on  my  stone  with  my  letter  in  my  hand.  I  knew 
perfectly  well  that  it  could  have  come  from  no  other  person  than 
Isopel  Berners ;  but  what  did  the  letter  contain  ?  I  guessed  toler- 
ably well  what  its  purport  was — an  eternal  farewell,  yet  I  was 
afraid  to  open  the  letter,  lest  my  expectation  should  be  confirmed. 
There  I  sat  with  the  letter,  putting  off  the  evil  moment  as  long  as 
possible.  At  length  I  glanced  at  the  direction,  which  was  written 
in  a  fine  bold  hand,  and  was  directed,  as  the  old  woman  had  said, 
to  the  young  man  in  "  Mumpers'  Dingle,"  with  the  addition,  near 

,  in  the  county  of Suddenly  the  idea  occurred  to  me, 

that,  after  all,  the  letter  might  not  contain  an  eternal  farewell,  and 
that  Isopel  might  have  written,  requesting  me  to  join  her.  Could 
it  be  so?  "Alas!  no,"  presently  said  Foreboding.  At  last  I 
became  ashamed  of  my  weakness.  The  letter  must  be  opened 
sooner  or  later.  Why  not  at  once  ?  So  as  the  bather  who,  for  a 
considerable  time  has  stood  shivering  on  the  bank,  afraid  to  take 
the  decisive  plunge,  suddenly  takes  it,  I  tore  open  the  letter  almost 
before  I  was  aware.  I  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  a  paper  fell  out. 
I  examined  it ;  it  contained  a  lock  of  bright  flaxen  hair.  "  This  is 
no  good  sign,"  said  I,  as  I  thrust  the  lock  and  paper  into  my  bosom, 
and  proceeded  to  read  the  letter,  which  ran  as  follows : — 


102  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 


"TO   THE   YOUNG    MAN    IN   MUMPERS     DINGLE. 

"  SIR, — I  send  these  lines,  with  the  hope  and  trust  that  they 
will  find  you  well,  even  as  I  am  myself  at  this  moment,  and  in 
much  better  spirits,  for  my  own  are  not  such  as  I  could  wish  they 
were,  being  sometimes  rather  hysterical  and  vapourish,  and  at 
other  times,  and  most  often,  very  low.  I  am  at  a  sea-port,  and 
am  just  going  on  shipboard ;  and  when  you  get  these  I  shall  be 
on  the  salt  waters,  on  my  way  to  a  distant  country,  and  leaving 
my  own  behind  me,  which  I  do  not  expect  ever  to  see  again. 

"  And  now,  young  man,  I  will,  in  the  first  place,  say  something 
about  the  manner  in  which  I  quitted  you.  It  must  have  seemed 
somewhat  singular  to  you  that  I  went  away  without  taking  any 
leave,  or  giving  you  the  slightest  hint  that  I  was  going ;  but  I  did 
not  do  so  without  considerable  reflection.  I  was  afraid  that  I 
should  not  be  able  to  support  a  leave-taking ;  and  as  you  had  said 
that  you  were  determined  to  go  wherever  I  did,  I  thought  it  best 
not  to  tell  you  at  all ;  for  I  did  not  think  it  advisable  that  you 
should  go  with  me,  and  I  wished  to  have  no  dispute. 

"  In  the  second  place,  I  wish  to  say  something  about  an  offer 
of  wedlock  which  you  made  me  ;  perhaps,  young  man,  had  you 
made  it  at  the  first  period  of  our  acquaintance,  I  should  have 
accepted  it,  but  you  did  not,  and  kept  putting  off  and  putting  off, 
and  behaving  in  a  very  strange  manner,  till  I  could  stand  your 
conduct  no  longer,  but  determined  upon  leaving  you  and  Old 
England,  which  last  step  I  had  been  long  thinking  about;  so 
when  you  made  your  offer  at  last,  everything  was  arranged — my 
cart  and  donkey  engaged  to  be  sold — and  the  greater  part  of  my 
things  disposed  of.  However,  young  man,  when  you  did  make 
it,  I  frankly  tell  you  that  I  had  half  a  mind  to  accept  it ;  at  last, 
however,  after  very  much  consideration,  I  thought  it  best  to  leave 
you  for  ever,  because,  for  some  time  past,  I  had  become  almost 
convinced,  that,  though  with  a  wonderful  deal  of  learning,  and 
exceedingly  shrewd  in  some  things,  you  were — pray  don't  be 
offended — at  the  root  mad !  and  though  mad  people,  I  have  been 
told,  sometimes  make  very  good  husbands,  I  was  unwilling  that 
your  friends,  if  you  had  any,  should  say  that  Belle  Berners,  the 
workhouse  girl,  took  advantage  of  your  infirmity ;  for  there  is  no 
concealing  that  I  was  born  and  bred  up  in  a  workhouse ;  notwith- 
standing that,  my  blood  is  better  than  your  own,  and  as  good  as 
the  best ;  you  having  yourself  told  me  that  my  name  is  a  noble 
name,  and  once,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  it  was  the  same  word  as 
baron,  which  is  the  same  thing  as  bear;  and  that  to  be  called  in 
old  times  a  bear  was  considered  a  great  compliment — the  bear 


I825-]  THE  LETTER.  103 

being  a  mighty  strong  animal,  on  which  account  our  forefathers 
called  all  their  great  fighting-men  barons,  which  is  the  same  as 
bears. 

"  However,  setting  matters  of  blood  and  family  entirely  aside, 
many  thanks  to  you,  young  man,  from  poor  Belle,  for  the  honour 
you  did  her  in  making  that  same  offer ;  for,  after  all,  it  is  an  honour 
to  receive  an  honourable  offer,  which  she  could  see  clearly 
yours  was,  with  no  floriness  nor  chaff  in  it ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
entire  sincerity.  She  assures  you  that  she  shall  always  bear  it  and 
yourself  in  mind,  whether  on  land  or  water  ;  and  as  a  proof  of  the 
good-will  she  bears  to  you,  she  sends  you  a  lock  of  the  hair  which 
she  wears  on  her  head,  which  you  were  often  looking  at,  and  were 
pleased  to  call  flax,  which  word  she  supposes  you  meant  as  a 
compliment,  even  as  the  old  people  meant  to  pass  a  compliment 
to  their  great  folks,  when  they  called  them  bears ;  though  she 
cannot  help  thinking  that  they  might  have  found  an  animal  as 
strong  as  a  bear,  and  somewhat  less  uncouth,  to  call  their  great 
folks  after :  even  as  she  thinks  yourself,  amongst  your  great  store 
of  words,  might  have  found  something  a  little  more  genteel  to  call 
her  hair  after  than  flax,  which,  though  strong  and  useful,  is  rather 
a  coarse  and  common  kind  of  article. 

"  And  as  another  proof  of  the  goodwill  she  bears  to  you,  she 
sends  you,  along  with  the  lock,  a  piece  of  advice,  which  is  worth 
all  the  hair  in  the  world,  to  say  nothing  of  the  flax. 

"Fear  God,  and  take  your  own  part.  There's  Bible  in  that, 
young  man ;  see  how  Moses  feared  God,  and  how  he  took  his 
own  part  against  everybody  who  meddled  with  him.  And  see 
how  David  feared  God,  and  took  his  own  part  against  all  the 
bloody  enemies  which  surrounded  him — so  fear  God,  young  man, 
and  never  give  in !  The  world  can  bully,  and  is  fond,  provided  it 
sees  a  man  in  a  kind  of  difficulty,  of  getting  about  him,  calling 
him  coarse  names,  and  even  going  so  far  as  to  hustle  him :  but 
the  world,  like  all  bullies,  carries  a  white  feather  in  its  tail,  and  no 
sooner  sees  the  man  taking  off  his  coat,  and  offering  to  fight  its 
best,  than  it  scatters  here  and  there,  and  is  always  civil  to  him 
afterwards.  So  when  folks  are  disposed  to  ill-treat  you,  young 
man,  say,  '  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me  ! '  and  then  tip  them  Long 
Melford,  to  which,  as  the  saying  goes,  there  is  nothing  com- 
parable for  shortness  all  the  world  over;  and  these  last  words, 
young  man,  are  the  last  you  will  ever  have  from  her  who  is  never- 
theless, 

"  Your  affectionate  female  servant, 

"  ISOPEL  BERNERS." 


104  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

After  reading  the  letter  I  sat  for  some  time  motionless,  holding 
it  in  my  hand.  The  daydream,  in  which  I  had  been  a  little  time 
before  indulging,  of  marrying  Isopel  Berners,  of  going  with  her  to 
America,  and  having  by  her  a  large  progeny,  who  were  to  assist 
me  in  felling  trees,  cultivating  the  soil,  and  who  would  take  care 
of  me  when  I  was  old,  was  now  thoroughly  dispelled.  Isopel  had 
deserted  me,  and  was  gone  to  America  by  herself,  where,  perhaps, 
she  would  marry  some  other  person,  and  would  bear  him  a 
progeny,  who  would  do  for  him  what  in  my  dream  I  had  hoped 
my  progeny  by  her  would  do  for  me.  Then  the  thought  came 
into  my  head  that  though  she  was  gone,  I  might  follow  her  to 
America,  but  then  I  thought  that  if  I  did  I  might  not  find  her ; 
America  was  a  very  large  place,  and  I  did  not  know  the  port 
to  which  she  was  bound ;  but  I  could  follow  her  to  the  port 
from  which  she  had  sailed,  and  there  possibly  discover  the  port 
to  which  she  was  bound ;  but  then  I  did  not  even  know  the  port 
from  which  she  had  set  out,  for  Isopel  had  not  dated  her  letter 
from  any  place.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  post-mark 
on  the  letter  would  tell  me  from  whence  it  came,  so  I  forthwith 
looked  at  the  back  of  the  letter,  and  in  the  post-mark  read  the 
name  of  a  well-known  and  not  very  distant  sea-port.  I  then  knew 
with  tolerable  certainty  the  port  where  she  had  embarked,  and  I 
almost  determined  to  follow  her,  but  I  almost  instantly  determined 
to  do  no  such  thing.  Isopel  Berners  had  abandoned  me,  and  I 
would  not  follow  her.  "  Perhaps,"  whispered  Pride,  "  if  I  overtook 
her,  she  would  only  despise  me  for  running  after  her ;  "  and  it 
also  told  me  pretty  roundly,  that,  provided  I  ran  after  her,  whether 

I  overtook  her  or  not,  I  should  heartily  despise  myself.     So  I 
determined  not  to  follow  Isopel  Berners.    I  took  her  lock  of  hair, 
and  looked  at  it,  then  put  it  in  her  letter,  which  I  folded  up  and 
carefully  stowed  away,  resolved  to   keep  both  for  ever,   but  I 
determined  not  to  follow  her.     Two   or  three   times,  however, 
during  the  day,  I  wavered  in  my  determination,  and  was  again 
and  again  almost  tempted  to  follow  her,  but  every  succeed  ing  time 
the  temptation  was  fainter.     In  the  evening  I  left  the  dingle,  and 
sat  down  with  Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  family  by  the  door  of  his 
tent ;  Mr.  Petulengro  soon  began  talking  of  the  letter  which  I  had 
received  in  the  morning.    "  Is  it  not  from  Miss  Berners,  brother?" 
said  he.     I  told  him  it  was.     "  Is  she  coming  back,  brother?" 

II  Never,"  said  I ;  "  she  is  gone  to  America,  and  has  deserted  me." 
"  I  always  knew  that  you  two  were  never  destined  for  each  other," 
said  he.     "  How  did  you  know  that  ?  "  I  inquired.     "  The  dook 
told  me  so,  brother;  you  are   born   to   be  a  great   traveller." 


1825.]  "  A  POOR  SEER  ! "  105 

"Well,"  said  I,  "  if  I  had  gone  with  her  to  America,  as  I  was 
thinking  of  doing,  I  should  have  been  a  great  traveller."  "  You 
are  to  travel  in  another  direction,  brother,"  said  he.  "  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me  all  about  my  future  wanderings,"  said  I.  "I  can't, 
brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  there's  a  power  of  clouds  before 
my  eye."  "  You  are  a  poor  seer,  after  all,"  said  I ;  and  getting 
up,  I  retired  to  my  dingle  and  my  tent,  where  I  betook  myself  to 
my  bed,  and  there,  knowing  the  worst,  and  being  no  longer  agi- 
tated by  apprehension,  nor  agonised  by  expectation,  I  was  soon 
buried  in  a  deep  slumber,  the  first  which  I  had  fallen  into  for 
several  nights. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


IT  was  rather  late  on  the  following  morning  when  I  awoke.  At 
first  I  was  almost  unconscious  of  what  had  occurred  on  the  pre- 
ceding day;  recollection,  however,  by  degrees  returned,  and  I 
felt  a  deep  melancholy  coming  over  me,  but  perfectly  aware  that 
no  advantage  could  be  derived  from  the  indulgence  of  such  a 
feeling,  I  sprang  up,  prepared  my  breakfast,  which  I  ate  with  a 
tolerable  appetite,  and  then  left  the  dingle,  and  betook  myself  to 
the  gypsy  encampment,  where  I  entered  into  discourse  with 
various  Romanies,  both  male  and  female.  After  some  time, 
feeling  myself  in  better  spirits,  I  determined  to  pay  another  visit 
to  the  landlord  of  the  public-house.  From  the  position  of  his 
affairs  when  I  had  last  visited  him,  I  entertained  rather  gloomy 
ideas  with  respect  to  his  present  circumstances.  I  imagined  that 
I  should  either  find  him  alone  in  his  kitchen  smoking  a  wretched 
pipe,  or  in  company  with  some  surly  bailiff  or  his  follower,  whom 
his  friend  the  brewer  had  sent  into  the  house  in  order  to  take 
possession  of  his  effects. 

Nothing  more  entirely  differing  from  either  of  these  anticipa- 
tions could  have  presented  itself  to  my  view  than  what  I  saw 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  entered  the  house. 
I  had  come,  though  somewhat  in  want  of  consolation  myself,  to 
offer  any  consolation  which  was  at  my  command  to  my  acquaint- 
ance Catchpole,  and  perhaps  like  many  other  people  who  go  to 
a  house  with  "  drops  of  compassion  trembling  on  their  eyelids," 
I  felt  rather  disappointed  at  finding  that  no  compassion  was 
necessary.  The  house  was  thronged  with  company  ;  the  cries  for 
ale  and  porter,  hot  brandy  and  water,  cold  gin  and  water,  were 
numerous ;  moreover,  no  desire  to  receive  and  not  to  pay  for  the 
landlord's  liquids  was  manifested — on  the  contrary,  everybody 
seemed  disposed  to  play  the  most  honourable  part :  "  Landlord, 
here's  the  money  for  this  glass  of  brandy  and  water— do  me  the 
favour  to  take  it ;  all  right,  remember  I  have  paid  you."  "  Land- 
lord, here's  the  money  for  the  pint  of  half-and-half — fourpence 
halfpenny,  ain't  it? — here's  sixpence;  keep  the  change — confound 
the  change  !  "  The  landlord,  assisted  by  his  niece,  bustled 

(ic6) 


•8 


1825.]  UP  IN  THE  WORLD.  107 

about,  his  brow  erect,  his  cheeks  plumped  out,  and  all  his 
features  exhibiting  a  kind  of  surly  satisfaction.  Wherever  he 
moved,  marks  of  the  most  cordial  amity  were  shown  him,  hands 
were  thrust  out  to  grasp  his,  nor  were  looks  of  respect,  admira- 
tion, nay,  almost  of  adoration,  wanting.  I  observed  one  fellow, 
as  the  landlord  advanced,  take  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and 
gaze  upon  him  with  a  kind  of  grin  of  wonder,  probably  much  the 
same  as  his  ancestor,  the  Saxon  lout  of  old,  put  on  when  he  saw 
his  idol  Thur,  dressed  in  a  new  kirtle.  To  avoid  the  press,  I  got 
into  a  corner,  where  on  a  couple  of  chairs  sat  two  respectable- 
looking  individuals,  whether  farmers  or  sow-gelders,  I  know  not, 
but  highly  respectable-looking,  who  were  discoursing  about  the 
landlord.  "Such  another,"  said  one,  "you  will  not  find  in  a 
summer's  day."  "  No,  nor  in  the  whole  of  England,"  said  the 
other.  "Tom  of  Hopton,"  said  the  first :  "ah !  Tom  of  Hopton," 
echoed  the  other ;  "  the  man  who  could  beat  Tom  of  Hopton 
could  beat  the  world."  "  I  glory  in  him,"  said  the  first.  "  So 
do  I,"  said  the  second  ;  "I'll  back  him  against  the  world.  Let 

me  hear  any  one  say  anything  against  him,  and  if  I  don't " 

then,  looking  at  me,  he  added:  "Have  you  anything  to  say 
against  him,  young  man  ?  "  "  Not  a  word,"  said  I,  "  save  that 
he  regularly  puts  me  out."  "  He'll  put  any  one  out,"  said  the 
man,  "  any  one  out  of  conceit  with  himself;  "  then,  lifting  a  mug 
to  his  mouth,  he  added,  with  a  hiccough,  "I  drink  his  health." 
Presently  the  landlord,  as  he  moved  about,  observing  me,  stopped 
short:  "Ah!"  said  he,  "are  you  here?  I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
come  this  way."  "Stand  back,"  said  he  to  his  company,  as  I 
followed  him  to  the  bar,  "  stand  back  for  me  and  this  gentleman." 
Two  or  three  young  fellows  were  in  the  bar,  seemingly  sporting 
yokels,  drinking  sherry  and  smoking.  "  Come,  gentlemen,"  said 
the  landlord,  "  clear  the  bar,  I  must  have  a  clear  bar  for  me  and 
my  friend  here."  "  Landlord,  what  will  you  take,"  said  one,  "  a 

glass  of  sherry?  I  know  you  like  it"    " sherry  and  you  too," 

said  the  landlord,  "I  want  neither  sherry  nor  yourself;  didn't  you 
hear  what  I  told  you?  "  "  All  right,  old  fellow,"  said  the  other, 
shaking  the  landlord  by  the  hand,  "all  right,  don't  wish  to  intrude 
— but  I  suppose  when  you  and  your  friend  have  done,  I  may 
come  in  again  ; "  then,  with  "a  sarvant,  sir,"  to  me,  he  took  him- 
self into  the  kitchen,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  sporting  yokels. 
Thereupon  the  landlord,  taking  a  bottle  of  ale  from  a  basket, 
uncorked  it,  and  pouring  the  contents  into  two  large  glasses, 
handed  me  one,  and  motioning  me  to  sit  down,  placed  himself 
by  me ;  then,  emptying  his  own  glass  at  a  draught,  he  gave  a  kind 


io8  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

of  grunt  of  satisfaction,  and  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  opposite  side 
of  the  bar,  remained  motionless,  without  saying  a  word,  buried 
apparently  in  important  cogitations.  With  respect  to  myself,  I 
swallowed  my  ale  more  leisurely,  and  was  about  to  address  my 
friend,  when  his  niece,  coming  into  the  bar,  said  that  more  and 
more  customers  were  arriving,  and  how  she  should  supply  their 
wants  she  did  not  know,  unless  her  uncle  would  get  up  and  help 
her. 

"  The  customers !  *  said  the  landlord,  "  let  the  scoundrels 
wait  till  you  have  time  to  serve  them,  or  till  I  have  leisure  to  see 
after  them."  "  The  kitchen  won't  contain  half  of  them,"  said 
his  niece.  "  Then  let  them  sit  out  abroad,"  said  the  landlord. 
"But  there  are  not  benches  enough,  uncle,"  said  the  niece. 
"Then  let  them  stand  or  sit  on  the  ground,"  said  the  uncle, 
"  what  care  I ;  I'll  let  them  know  that  the  man  who  beat  Tom  of 
Hopton  stands  as  well  again  on  his  legs  as  ever."  Then  opening 
a  side  door  which  led  from  the  bar  into  the  back  yard,  he 
beckoned  me  to  follow  him.  "  You  treat  your  customers  in 
rather  a  cavalier  manner,"  said  I,  when  we  were  alone  together 
in  the  yard. 

"  Don't  I  ?  "  said  the  landlord ;  "  and  I'll  treat  them  more  so 
yet ;  now  I  have  got  the  whiphand  of  the  rascals  I  intend  to  keep  it. 
I  daresay  you  are  a  bit  surprised  with  regard  to  the  change  which 
has  come  over  things  since  you  were  last  here.  I'll  tell  you  how 
it  happened.  You  remember  in  what  a  desperate  condition  you 
found  me,  thinking  of  changing  my  religion,  selling  my  soul  to 
the  man  in  black,  and  then  going  and  hanging  myself  like  Pontius 
Pilate ;  and  I  daresay  you  can't  have  forgotten  how  you  gave  me 
good  advice,  made  me  drink  ale,  and  give  up  sherry.  Well,  after 
you  were  gone,  I  felt  all  the  better  for  your  talk,  and  what  you 
had  made  me  drink,  and  it  was  a  mercy  that  I  did  feel  better ; 
for  my  niece  was  gone  out,  poor  thing,  and  I  was  left  alone  in 
the  house,  without  a  soul  to  look  at,  or  to  keep  me  from  doing 
myself  a  mischief  in  case  I  was  so  inclined.  Well,  things  wore 
on  in  this  way  till  it  grew  dusk,  when  in  came  that  blackguard 
Hunter  with  his  train  to  drink  at  my  expense,  and  to  insult  me 
as  usual ;  there  were  more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  and  a  pretty  set 
they  looked.  Well,  they  ordered  about  in  a  very  free  and  easy 
manner  for  upwards  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  occasionally  sneering 
and  jeering  at  me,  as  they  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  for 
some  time  past ;  so,  as  I  said  before,  things  wore  on,  and  other 
customers  came  in,  who,  though  they  did  not  belong  to  Hunter's 
gang,  also  passed  off  their  jokes  upon  me ;  for,  as  you  perhaps 


I835-]  THE  LANDLORD'S  LUCK.  109 

know,  we  English  are  a  set  of  low  hounds,  who  will  always  take 
part  with  the  many  by  way  of  making  ourselves  safe,  and  currying 
favour  with  the  stronger  side.  I  said  little  or  nothing,  for  my 
spirits  had  again  become  very  low,  and  I  was  verily  scared  and 
afraid.  All  of  a  sudden  I  thought  of  the  ale  which  I  had  drank 
in  the  morning,  and  of  the  good  it  did  me  then,  so  I  went  into 
the  bar,  opened  another  bottle,  took  a  glass,  and  felt  better ;  so  I 
took  another,  and  feeling  better  still,  I  went  back  into  the  kitchen, 
just  as  Hunter  and  his  crew  were  about  leaving.  '  Mr.  Hunter/ 
said  I,  '  you  and  your  people  will  please  to  pay  me  for  what  you 
have  had?'  'What  do  you  mean  by  my  people?'  said  he,  with 
an  oath.  *  Ah,  what  do  mean  by  calling  us  his  people? '  said  the 
clan.  '  We  are  nobody's  people ; '  and  then  there  was  a  pretty 
load  of  abuse,  and  threatening  to  serve  me  out.  '  Well/  said  I, 
'I  was  perhaps  wrong  to  call  them  your  people,  and  beg  your 
pardon  and  theirs.  And  now  you  will  please  to  pay  me  for  what 
you  have  had  yourseli",  and  afterwards  I  can  settle  with  them/ 
'  I  shall  pay  you  when  I  think  fit/  said  Hunter.  '  Yes/  said  the 
rest,  'and  so  shall  we.  We  shall  pay  you  when  we  think  fit/ 
'  I  tell  you  what/  said  Hunter,  '  I  conceives  I  do  such  an 
old  fool  as  you  an  honour  when  I  comes  into  his  house  and 
drinks  his  beer,  and  goes  away  without  paying  for  it ; '  and 
then  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter  from  everybody,  and  almost 
all  said  the  same  thing.  '  Now,  do  you  please  to  pay  me,  Mr. 
Hunter  ? '  said  I.  '  Pay  you  ! '  said  Hunter ;  '  pay  you  !  Yes, 
here's  the  pay ; '  and  thereupon  he  held  out  his  thumb,  twirling 
it  round  till  it  just  touched  my  nose.  I  can't  tell  you  what  I  felt 
that  moment ;  a  kind  of  madhouse  thrill  came  upon  me,  and  all 
I  know  is,  that  I  bent  back  as  far  as  I  could,  then  lunging  out, 
struck  him  under  the  ear,  sending  him  reeling  two  or  three  yards, 
when  he  fell  on  the  floor.  I  wish  you  had  but  seen  how  my  com- 
pany looked  at  me  and  at  each  other.  One  or  two  of  the  clan 
went  to  raise  Hunter,  and  get  him  to  fight,  but  it  was  no  go ; 
though  he  was  not  killed,  he  had  had  enough  for  that  evening. 
Oh,  I  wish  you  had  seen  my  customers ;  those  who  did  not 
belong  to  the  clan,  but  who  had  taken  part  with  them,  and  helped 
to  jeer  and  flout  me,  now  came  and  shook  me  by  the  hand, 
wishing  me  joy,  and  saying  as  how  '  I  was  a  brave  fellow,  and  had 
served  the  bully  right ! '  As  for  the  clan,  they  all  said  Hunter 
was  bound  to  do  me  justice ;  so  they  made  him  pay  me  what  he 
owed  for  himself,  and  the  ^reckoning  of  those  among  them  who 
said  they  had  no  money.  Two  or  three  of  them  then  led  him 
away,  while  the  rest  stayed  behind,  and  flattered  me,  and  wor- 


no  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [i8a5- 

shipped  me,  and  called  Hunter  all  kinds  of  dogs'  names.  What 
do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "it  makes  good  what  I  read  in  a  letter  which 
I  received  yesterday.  It  is  just  the  way  of  the  world." 

"A'n't  it,"  said  the  landlord.  "Well,  that  a'n't  all;  let  me 
go  on.  Good  fortune  never  yet  came  alone.  In  about  an  hour 
comes  home  my  poor  niece,  almost  in  high  sterricks  with  joy, 

smiling  and  sobbing.  She  had  been  to  the  clergyman  of  M , 

the  great  preacher,  to  whose  Church  she  was  in  the  habit  of  going, 
and  to  whose  daughters  she  was  well  known  ;  and  to  him  she  told 
a  lamentable  tale  about  my  distresses,  and  about  the  snares  which 
had  been  laid  for  my  soul ;  and  so  well  did  she  plead  my  cause, 
and  so  strong  did  the  young  ladies  back  all  she  said,  that  the  good 
clergyman  promised  to  stand  my  friend,  and  to  lend  me  sufficient 
money  to  satisfy  the  brewer,  and  to  get  my  soul  out  of  the  snares 
of  the  man  in  black ;  and  sure  enough  the  next  morning  the  two 
young  ladies  brought  me  the  fifty  pounds,  which  I  forthwith 
carried  to  the  brewer,  who  was  monstrously  civil,  saying  that  he 
hoped  any  little  misunderstanding  we  had  had  would  not  prevent 
our  being  good  friends  in  future.  That  a'n't  all ;  the  people  of 
the  neighbouring  county  hearing  as  if  by  art  witchcraft  that  I  had 
licked  Hunter,  and  was  on  good  terms  with  the  brewer,  forthwith 
began  to  come  in  crowds  to  look  at  me,  pay  me  homage,  and  be 
my  customers.  Moreover,  fifty  scoundrels  who  owed  me  money, 
and  who  would  have  seen  me  starve  rather  than  help  me  as  long  as 
they  considered  me  a  down  pin,  remembered  their  debts,  and 
came  and  paid  me  more  than  they  owed.  That  a'n't  all;  the 
brewer  being  about  to  establish  a  stage-coach  and  three,  to  run 
across  the  country,  says  it  shall  stop  and  change  horses  at  my 
house,  and  the  passengers  breakfast  and  sup  as  it  goes  and 
returns.  He  wishes  me — whom  he  calls  the  best  man  in  England 
— to  give  his  son  lessons  in  boxing,  which  he  says  he  considers  a 
fine  manly  English  art,  and  a  great  defence  against  Popery — not- 
withstanding that  only  a  month  ago,  when  he  considered  me  a 
down  pin,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  railing  against  it  as  a  blackguard 
practice,  and  against  me  as  a  blackguard  for  following  it ;  so  I  am 
going  to  commence  with  young  hopeful  to-morrow." 

"  I  really  cannot  help  congratulating  you  on  your  good 
fortune,"  said  I. 

"That  a'n't  all,"  said  the  landlord.  This  very  morning  the 
folks  of  our  parish  made  me  churchwarden,  which  they  would  no 
more  have  done  a  month  ago,  when  they  considered  me  a  down 
pin,  than  they " 


1825.]  ^  PROPOSITION.  in 

"  Mercy  upon  us  !  "  said  I,  "  if  fortune  pours  in  upon  you  in 
this  manner,  who  knows  but  that  within  a  year  they  may  make 
you  justice  of  the  peace  ?  " 

"Who  knows,  indeed!"  said  the  landlord.  "Well,  I  will 
prove  myself  worthy  of  my  good  luck  by  showing  the  grateful 
mind — not  to  those  who  would  be  kind  to  me  now,  but  to  those 
who  were,  when  the  days  were  rather  gloomy.  My  customers 
shall  have  abundance  of  rough  language,  but  I'll  knock  any  one 
down  who  says  anything  against  the  clergyman  who  lent  me  the 
fifty  pounds,  or  against  the  Church  of  England,  of  which  he  is 
parson  and  I  am  churchwarden.  I  am  also  ready  to  do  anything 
in  reason  for  him  who  paid  me  for  the  ale  he  drank,  when  I 
shouldn't  have  had  the  heart  to  collar  him  for  the  money  had  he 
refused  to  pay ;  who  never  jeered  or  flouted  me  like  the  rest  of  my 
customers  when  I  was  a  down  pin,  and  though  he  refused  to  fight 
cross  for  me  was  never  cross  with  me,  but  listened  to  all  I  had 
to  say,  and  gave  me  all  kinds  of  good  advice.  Now  who  do  you 
think  I  mean  by  this  last?  why,  who  but  yourself — who  on  earth 
but  yourself?  The  parson  is  a  good  man  and  a  great  preacher, 
and  I'll  knock  anybody  down  who  says  to  the  contrary ;  and  I 
mention  him  first,  because  why,  he's  a  gentleman,  and  you  a 
tinker.  But  I  am  by  no  means  sure  you  are  not  the  best  friend  of 
the  two ;  for  I  doubt,  do  you  see,  whether  I  should  have  had  the 
fifty  pounds  but  for  you.  You  persuaded  me  to  give  up  that  silly 
drink  they  call  sherry,  and  drink  ale ;  and  what  was  it  but  drink- 
ing ale  which  gave  me  courage  to  knock  down  that  fellow  Hunter 
— and  knocking  him  down  was,  I  verily  believe,  the  turning  point 
of  my  disorder.  God  don't  love  them  who  won't  strike  out  for 
themselves ;  and  as  far  as  I  can  calculate  with  respect  to  time,  it 
was  just  the  moment  after  I  had  knocked  down  Hunter,  that  the 
parson  consented  to  lend  me  the  money,  and  everything  began  to 
grow  civil  to  me.  So,  dash  my  buttons  if  I  show  the  ungrateful 
mind  to  you  !  I  don't  offer  to  knock  anybody  down  for  you,  be- 
cause why — I  daresay  you  can  knock  a  body  down  yourself;  but 
I'll  offer  something  more  to  the  purpose ;  as  my  business  is 
wonderfully  on  the  increase,  I  shall  want  somebody  to  help 
me  in  serving  my  customers,  and  keeping  them  in  order.  If 
you  choose  to  come  and  serve  for  your  board,  and  what  they'll 
give  you,  give  me  your  fist ;  or  if  you  like  ten  shillings  a  week 
better  than  their  sixpences  and  ha'pence,  only  say  so — though, 
to  be  open  with  you,  I  believe  you  would  make  twice  ten 
shillings  out  of  them — the  sneaking,  fawning,  curry-favouring 
humbugs ! " 


in  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  I,  "  for  your  handsome 
offer,  which,  however,  I  am  obliged  to  decline." 

"  Why  so?  "  said  the  landlord. 

"  I  am  not  fit  for  service,"  said  I ;  "  moreover,  I  am  about  to 
leave  this  part  of  the  country."  As  I  spoke  a  horse  neighed  in 
the  stable.  "  What  horse  is  that  ?  "  said  I. 

"  It  belongs  to  a  cousin  of  mijie,  who  put  it  into  my  hands 
yesterday,  in  the  hopes  that  I  might  get  rid  of  it  for  him,  though 
he  would  no  more  have  done  so  a  week  ago,  when  he  considered  me 
a  down  pin,  than  he  would  have  given  the  horse  away.  Are  you 
fond  of  horses  ?  " 

"  Very  much,"  said  I. 

"  Then  come  and  look  at  it."  He  led  me  into  the  stable, 
where,  in  a  stall,  stood  a  noble-looking  animal. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  I,  "  I  saw  this  horse  at fair." 

"Like  enough,"  said  the  landlord;  "he  was  there  and  was 
offered  for  seventy  pounds,  but  didn't  find  a  bidder  at  any  price. 
What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  He's  a  splendid  creature." 

*  I  am  no  judge  of  horses,"  said  the  landlord ;  "  but  I  am  told 
he's  a  first-rate  trotter,  good  leaper,  and  has  some  of  the  blood  of 
Syntax.  What  does  all  that  signify? — the  game  is  against  his 
master,  who  is  a  down  pin,  is  thinking  of  emigrating,  and  wants 
money  confoundedly.  He  asked  seventy  pounds  at  the  fair ;  but, 
between  ourselves,  he  would  be  glad  to  take  fifty  here." 

"  I  almost  wish,"  said  I,  "that  I  were  a  rich  squire." 

"You  would  buy  him  then,"  said  the  landlord.  Here  he 
mused  for  some  time,  with  a  very  profound  look.  "  It  would  be 
a  rum  thing,"  said  he,  "if  some  time  or  other  that  horse  should 
come  into  your  hands.  Didn't  you  hear  how  he  neighed  when 
you  talked  about  leaving  the  country?  My  granny  was  a  wise 
woman,  and  was  up  to  all  kinds  of  signs  and  wonders,  sounds  and 
noises,  the  interpretation  of  the  language  of  birds  and  animals, 
crowing  and  lowing,  neighing  and  braying.  If  she  had  been  here, 
she  would  have  said  at  once  that  that  horse  was  fated  to  carry  you 
away.  On  that  point,  however,  I  can  say  nothing,  for  under  fifty 
pounds  no  one  can  have  him.  Are  you  taking  that  money  out  of 
your  pocket  to  pay  me  for  the  alef  That  won't  do  ;  nothing  to 
pay;  I  invited  you  this  time.  Now,  if  you  are  going,  you  had 
best  get  into  the  road  through  the  yard-gate.  I  won't  trouble  you 
to  make  your  way  through  the  kitchen  and  my  fine-weather  com- 
pany— confound  them  ! " 


CHAPTER  XVIU. 


As  I  returned  along  the  road  I  met  Mr.  Petulengro  and  one  of 
his  companions,  who  told  me  that  they  were  bound  for  the  public- 
house  ;  whereupon  I  informed  Jasper  how  I  had  seen  in  the  stable 
the  horse  which  we  had  admired  at  the  fair.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  you  buy  that  horse  after  all,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro. 
With  a  smile  at  the  absurdity  of  such  a  supposition,  I  left  him  and 
his  companion,  and  betook  myself  to  the  dingle.  In  the  evening 
I  received  a  visit  from  Mr.  Petulengro,  who  forthwith  commenced 
talking  about  the  horse,  which  he  had  again  seen,  the  landlord 
having  shown  it  to  him  on  learning  that  he  was  a  friend  of  mine. 
He  told  me  that  the  horse  pleased  him  more  than  ever,  he  having 
examined  his  points  with  more  accuracy  than  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  on  the  first  occasion,  concluding  by  pressing  me  to 
buy  him.  I  begged  him  to  desist  from  such  foolish  importunity, 
assuring  him  that  I  had  never  so  much  money  in  all  my  life  as 
would  enable  me  to  purchase  the  horse.  Whilst  this  discourse 
was  going  on,  Mr.  Petulengro  and  myself  were  standing  together 
in  the  midst  of  the  dingle.  Suddenly  he  began  to  move  round  me 
in  a  very  singular  manner,  making  strange  motions  with  his  hands, 
and  frightful  contortions  with  his  features,  till  I  became  alarmed, 
and  asked  him  whether  he  had  not  lost  his  senses  ?  Whereupon, 
ceasing  his  movements  and  contortions,  he  assured  me  that  he  had 
not,  but  had  merely  been  seized  with  a  slight  dizziness,  and  then 
once  more  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  horse.  Feeling  myself 
very  angry,  I  told  him  that  if  he  continued  persecuting  me  in  that 
manner,  I  should  be  obliged  to  quarrel  with  him ;  adding,  that  I 
believed  his  only  motive  for  asking  me  to  buy  the  animal  was  to 
insult  my  poverty.  "  Pretty  poverty,"  said  he,  "  with  fifty  pounds 
in  your  pocket ;  however,  I  have  heard  say  that  it  is  always  the 
custom  of  your  rich  people  to  talk  of  their  poverty,  more  especially 
when  they  wish  to  avoid  laying  out  money."  Surprised  at  his 
saying  that  I  had  fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket,  I  asked  him  what  he 
meant ;  whereupon  he  told  me  that  he  was  very  sure  that  I  had 
fifty  pounds  in  rny  pocket,  offering  to  lay  me  five  shillings  to  that 
effect.  "Done! "said  I,  "I  have  scarcely  more  than  the  fifth 

("3)  8 


114  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

part  of  what  you  say."  "  I  know  better,  brother,"  said  Mr. 
Petulengro  ;  "  if  you  only  pull  out  what  you  have  in  the  pocket  of 
your  slop,  I  am  sure  you  will  have  lost  your  wager."  Putting  my 
hand  into  the  pocket,  I  felt  something  which  I  had  never  felt 
there  before,  and  pulling  it  out,  perceived  that  it  was  a  clumsy 
leathern  purse,  which  I  found  on  opening  contained  four  ten- 
pound  notes,  and  several  pieces  of  gold.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  so, 
brother  ?  "  said  Mr.  Petulengro.  "  Now,  in  the  first  place,  please 
to  pay  me  the  five  shillings  you  have  lost."  "  This  is  only  a  foolish 
piece  of  pleasantry,"  said  I;  "you  put  it  into  my  pocket  whilst 
you  were  moving  about  me,  making  faces  like  a  distracted  person. 
Here,  take  your  purse  back."  "  I,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  not  I, 
indeed  !  don't  think  I  am  such  a  fool.  I  have  won  my  wager,  so 
pay  me  the  five  shillings,  brother.''  "Do  drop  this  folly,"  said  I, 
"  and  take  your  purse ; "  and  I  flung  it  on  the  ground.  "  Brother," 
said  Mr.  Petulengro,  *'  you  were  talking  of  quarrelling  with  me 
just  now.  I  tell  you  now  one  thing,  which  is,  that  if  you  do  not 
take  back  the  purse  I  will  quarrel  with  you ;  and  it  shall  be  for 
good  and  all.  I'll  drop  your  acquaintance,  no  longer  call  you  my 
pal,  and  not  even  say  sar  shan  to  you  when  I  meet  you  by  the  road- 
side. Hir  mi  diblis,  I  never  will."  I  saw  by  Jasper's  look  and 
tone  that  he  was  in  earnest,  and,  as  I  had  really  a  regard  for  the 
strange  being,  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  "  Now,  be  persuaded, 
brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  taking  up  the  purse,  and  handing 
it  to  me ;  "  be  persuaded ;  put  the  purse  into  your  pocket,  and 
buy  the  horse."  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  I  did  so,  would  you  acknow- 
ledge the  horse  to  be  yours,  and  receive  the  money  again  as  soon 
as  I  should  be  able  to  repay  you  ?  " 

"  I  would,  brother,  I  would,"  said  he;  "  return  me  the  money 
as  soon  as  you  please,  provided  you  buy  the  horse."  "  What 
motive  have  you  for  wishing  me  to  buy  that  horse?"  said  I. 
"  He's  to  be  sold  for  fifty  pounds,"  said  Jasper,  "  and  is  worth 
four  times  that  sum,  though,  like  many  a  splendid  bargain,  he  is 
now  going  a  begging;  buy  him,  and  I'm  confident  that,  in  a  little 
time,  a  grand  gentleman  of  your  appearance  may  have  anything 
he  asks  for  him,  and  found  a  fortune  by  his  means.  Moreover, 
brother,  I  want  to  dispose  of  this  fifty  pounds  in  a  safe  manner. 
If  you  don't  take  it,  I  shall  fool  it  away  in  no  time,  perhaps  at 
card- play  ing,  for  you  saw  how  I  was  cheated  by  those  blackguard 
jockeys  the  other  day — we  gyptians  don't  how  to  take  care  of 
money :  our  best  plan  when  we  have  got  a  handful  of  guineas  is 
to  make  buttons  with  them  ;  but  I  have  plenty  of  golden  buttons, 
and  don't  wish  to  be  troubled  with  more,  so  you  can  do  me  no 


1825.]  THE  LOAN.  115 

greater  favour  than  vesting  the  money  in  this  speculation,  by 
which  my  mind  will  be  relieved  of  considerable  care  and  trouble 
for  some  time  at  least. 

Perceiving  that  I  still  hesitated,  he  said:  "  Perhaps,  brother, 
you  think  I  did  not  come  honestly  by  the  money :  by  the  honest- 
est  manner  in  the  world,  for  it  is  the  money  I  earnt  by  fighting  in  the 
ring :  I  did  not  steal  it,  brother,  nor  did  I  get  it  by  disposing  of 
spavined  donkeys,  or  glandered  ponies — nor  is  it,  brother,  the 
profits  of  my  wife's  witchcraft  and  dukkerin." 

*'  But,"  said  I,  "  you  had  better  employ  it  in  your  traffic." 
"I  have  plenty  of  money  for  my  traffic,  independent  of  this 
capital,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "ay,  brother,  and  enough  besides 
to  back  the  husband  of  my  wife's  sister,  Sylvester,  against  Slam- 
mocks  of  the  Chong  gav  for  twenty  pounds,  which  I  am  thinking 
of  doing." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "after  all,  the  horse  may  have  found  another 
purchaser  by  this  time."  "  Not  he,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro ;  "  there 
is  nobody  in  this  neighbourhood  to  purchase  a  horse  like  that, 
unless  it  be  your  lordship — so  take  the  money,  brother,"  and  he 
thrust  the  purse  into  my  hand.  Allowing  myself  to  be  persuaded, 
I  kept  possession  of  the  purse.  "Are  you  satisfied  now?"  said 
I.  "  By  no  means,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  you  will 
please  to  pay  me  the  five  shillings  which  you  lost  to  me." 
"  Why,"  said  I,  "  the  fifty  pounds  which  I  found  in  my  pocket 
were  not  mine,  but  put  in  by  yourself."  "That's  nothing  to  do 
with  the  matter,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro;  "I  betted  you 
five  shillings  that  you  had  fifty  pounds  in  your  pocket,  which  sum 
you  had :  I  did  not  say  that  they  were  your  own,  but  merely  that 
you  had  fifty  pounds ;  you  will  therefore  pay  me,  brother,  or  I 
shall  not  consider  you  an  honourable  man."  Not  wishing  to 
have  any  dispute  about  such  a  matter,  I  took  five  shillings  out  of 
my  under  pocket,  and  gave  them  to  him.  Mr.  Petulengro  took 
the  money  with  great  glee,  observing:  "These  five  shillings  I 
will  take  to  the  public-house  forthwith,  and  spend  in  drinking 
with  four  of  my  brethren,  and  doing  so  will  give  me  an  opportu- 
nity of  telling  the  landlord  that  I  have  found  a  customer  for  his 
horse,  and  that  you  are  the  man.  It  will  be  as  well  to  secure  the 
horse  as  soon  as  possible ;  for  though  the  dook  tells  me  that  the 
horse  is  intended  for  you,  I  have  now  and  then  found  that  the 
dook  is,  like  myself,  somewhat  given  to  lying." 

He  then  departed,  and  I  remained  alone  in  the  dingle.  I 
thought  at  first  that  I  had  committed  a  great  piece  of  folly  in 
consenting  to  purchase  this  horse;  I  might  find  no  desirable 


n6  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

purchaser  for  him,  until  the  money  in  my  possession  should  be 
totally  exhausted,  and  then  I  might  be  compelled  to  sell  him  for 
half  the  price  1  had  given  for  him,  or  be  even  glad  to  find  a 
person  who  would  receive  him  at  a  gift ;  I  should  then  remain 
sans  horse,  and  indebted  to  Mr.  Petulengro.  Nevertheless,  it 
was  possible  that  I  might  sell  the  horse  very  advantageously,  and 
by  so  doing  obtain  a  fund  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  execute  some 
grand  enterprise  or  other.  My  present  way  of  life  afforded  no 
prospect  of  support,  whereas  the  purchase  of  the  horse  did  afford  a 
possibility  of  bettering  my  condition,  so,  after  all,  had  I  not  done 
right  in  consenting  to  purchase  the  horse  ?  The  purchase  was  to 
be  made  with  another  person's  property,  it  is  true,  and  I  did  not 
exactly  like  the  idea  of  speculating  with  another  person's  property, 
but  Mr.  Petulengro  had  thrust  his  money  upon  me,  and  if  I  lost 
his  money,  he  could  have  no  one  but  himself  to  blame ;  so  I 
persuaded  myself  that  I  had,  upon  the  whole,  done  right,  and 
having  come  to  that  persuasion,  I  soon  began  to  enjoy  the  idea 
of  finding  myself  on  horseback  again,  and  figured  to  myself  all 
kinds  of  strange  adventures  which  I  should  meet  with  on  the 
roads  before  the  horse  and  I  should  part  company. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


I  SAW  nothing  more  of  Mr.  Petulengro  that  evening;  on  the 
morrow,  however,  he  came  and  informed  me  that  he  had  secured 
the  horse  for  me,  and  that  I  was  to  go  and  pay  for  it  at  noon. 
At  the  hour  appointed,  therefore,  I  went  with  Mr.  Petulengro 
and  Tawno  to  the  public,  where,  as  before,  there  was  a  crowd  of 
company.  The  landlord  received  us  in  the  bar  with  marks  of 
much  satisfaction  and  esteem,  made  us  sit  down,  and  treated  us 
with  some  excellent  mild  draught  ale.  "  Who  do  you  think  has 
been  here  this  morning  ?  "  he  said  to  me ;  "  why,  that  fellow  in 
black,  who  came  to  carry  me  off  to  a  house  of  Popish  devotion, 
where  I  was  to  pass  seven  days  and  nights  in  meditation,  as  I 
think  he  called  it,  before  I  publicly  renounced  the  religion  of  my 
country.  I  read  him  a  pretty  lecture,  calling  him  several  unhand- 
some names,  and  asking  him  what  he  meant  by  attempting  to 
seduce  a  churchwarden  of  the  Church  of  England.  I  tell  you 
what,  he  ran  some  danger ;  for  some  of  my  customers,  learning 
his  errand,  laid  hold  on  him,  and  were  about  to  toss  him  in  a 
blanket,  and  then  duck  him  in  the  horse-pond.  I,  however, 
interfered,  and  said,  '  that  what  he  came  about  was  between  me 
and  him,  and  that  it  was  no  business  of  theirs '.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  felt  pity  for  the  poor  devil,  more  especially  when  I  con- 
sidered that  they  merely  sided  against  him  because  they  thought 
him  the  weakest,  and  that  they  would  have  wanted  to  serve  me  in 
the  same  manner  had  they  considered  me  a  down  pin ;  so  I 
rescued  him  from  their  hands,  told  him  not  to  be  afraid,  for  that 
nobody  should  touch  him,  and  offered  to  treat  him  to  some  cold 
gin  and  water  with  a  lump  of  sugar  in  it ;  and  on  his  refusing, 
told  him  that  he  had  better  make  himself  scarce,  which  he  did, 
and  I  hope  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  So  I  suppose  you  are 
come  for  the  horse ;  mercy  upon  us !  who  would  have  thought 
you  would  have  become  the  purchaser?  The  horse,  however, 
seemed  to  know  it  by  his  neighing.  How  did  you  ever  come  by 
the  money  ?  however,  that's  no  matter  of  mine.  I  suppose  you 
are  strongly  backed  by  certain  friends  you  have." 

I  informed  the  landlord  that  he  was  right  in  supposing  that  I 


n8  THE  ROMANY  R'YB.  [1815. 

came  for  the  horse,  but  that,  before  I  paid  for  him,  I  should  wish 
to  prove  his  capabilities.  "With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  landlord. 
"  You  shall  mount  him  this  moment."  Then  going  into  the  stable, 
he  saddled  and  bridled  the  horse,  and  presently  brought  him  out 
before  the  door.  I  mounted  him,  Mr.  Petulengro  putting  a  heavy 
whip  into  my  hand,  and  saying  a  few  words  to  me  in  his  own 
mysterious  language.  "  The  horse  wants  no  whip,"  said  the  land- 
lord. "  Hold  your  tongue,  daddy,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro,  "  My 
pal  knows  quite  well  what  to  do  with  the  whip,  he's  not  going  to 
beat  the  horse  with  it."  About  four  hundred  yards  from  the 
house  there  was  a  hill,  to  the  foot  of  which  the  road  ran  almost 
on  a  perfect  level ;  towards  the  foot  of  this  hill,  I  trotted  the 
horse,  who  set  off  at  a  long,  swift  pace,  seemingly  at  the  rate  of 
about  sixteen  miles  an  hour.  On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  hill,  I 
wheeled  the  animal  round,  and  trotted  him  towards  the  house — 
the  horse  sped  faster  than  before.  Ere  he  had  advanced  a  hun- 
dred yards,  I  took  off  my  hat,  in  obedience  to  the  advice  which 
Mr.  Petulengro  had  given  me,  in  his  own  language,  and  holding 
it  over  the  horse's  head  commenced  drumming  on  the  crown  with 
the  knob  of  the  whip ;  the  horse  gave  a  slight  start,  but  instantly 
recovering  himself,  continued  his  trot  till  he  arrived  at  the  door 
of  the  public-house,  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  company,  who 
had  all  rushed  out  of  the  house  to  be  spectators  of  what  was  going 
on.  "  I  see  now  what  you  wanted  the  whip  for,"  said  the  land- 
lord, "  and  sure  enough,  that  drumming  on  your  hat  was  no  bad 
way  of  learning  whether  the  horse  was  quiet  or  not.  Well,  did 
you  ever  see  a  more  quiet  horse,  or  a  better  trotter  ?  "  "  My  cob 
shall  trot  against  him,"  said  a  fellow,  dressed  in  velveteen,  mounted 
on  a  low  powerful-looking  animal.  "  My  cob  shall  trot  against 
him  to  the  hill  and  back  again — come  on  !  "  We  both  started  ; 
the  cob  kept  up  gallantly  against  the  horse  for  about  half  the  way 
to  the  hill,  when  he  began  to  lose  ground;  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  he 
was  about  fifteen  yards  behind.  Whereupon  I  turned  slowly  and 
waited  for  him.  We  then  set  off  towards  the  house,  but  now  the 
cob  had  no  chance,  being  at  least  twenty  yards  behind  when  I 
reached  the  door.  This  running  of  horses,  the  wild  uncouth 
forms  around  me,  and  the  ale  and  beer  which  were  being  guzzled 
from  pots  and  flagons,  put  me  wonderfully  in  mind  of  the  ancient 
horse-races  of  the  heathen  north.  I  almost  imagined  myself 

Gunnar  of  Hlitharend  at  the  race  of . 

"  Are  you  satisfied  ?  "  said  the  landlord.  "  Didn't  you  tell  me 
that  he  could  leap  ?  "  I  demanded.  "  I  am  told  he  can,"  said  the 
landlord;  "but  I  can't  consent  that  he  should  be  tried  in  that 


1825.]  THE  HORSE.  ng 

way,  as  he  might  be  damaged."  "  That's  right ! "  said  Mr.  Petu- 
lengro,  "  don't  trust  my  pal  to  leap  that  horse,  he'll  merely  fling 
him  down,  and  break  his  neck  and  his  own.  There's  a  better 
man  than  he  close  by ;  let  him  get  on  his  back  and  leap  him." 
"  You  mean  yourself,  I  suppose,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Well,  I 
call  that  talking  modestly,  and  nothing  becomes  a  young  man 
more  than  modesty."  "  It  a'n't  I,  daddy,"  said  Mr.  Petulengro. 
"  Here's  the  man,"  said  he,  pointing  to  Tawno.  "  Here's  the 
horse-leaper  of  the  world  ! "  "  You  mean  the  horse-back  breaker/ 
said  the  landlord.  "That  big  fellow  would  break  down  my 
cousin's  horse."  "  Why,  he  weighs  only  sixteen  stone,"  said  Mr. 
Petulengro.  "And  his  sixteen  stone,  with  his  way  of  handling  a 
horse,  does  not  press  so  much  as  any  other  one's  thirteen.  Only 
let  him  get  on  the  horse's  back,  and  you'll  see  what  he  can  do  !  " 
"No,"  said  the  landlord,  "  it  won't  do."  Whereupon  Mr.  Petu- 
lengro became  very  much  excited,  and  pulling  out  a  handful 
of  money,  said :  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll  forfeit  these  guineas,  if 
my  black  pal  there  does  the  horse  any  kind  of  damage  ;  duck  me 
in  the  horse-pond  if  I  don't."  "  Well,"  said  the  landlord,  "  for  the 
sport  of  the  thing  I  consent,  so  let  your  white  pal  get  down,  and 
your  black  pal  mount  as  soon  as  he  pleases."  I  felt  rather 
mortified  at  Mr.  Petulengro's  interference,  and  showed  no  dis- 
position to  quit  my  seat ;  whereupon  he  came  up  to  me  and 
said :  "  Now,  brother,  do  get  out  of  the  saddle — you  are  no 
bad  hand  at  trotting,  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge  that ;  but  at 
leaping  a  horse  there  is  no  one  like  Tawno  Let  every  dog 
be  praised  for  his  own  gift.  You  have  been  showing  off  in 
your  line  for  the  last  half-hour ;  now  do  give  Tawno  a  chance 
of  exhibiting  a  little ;  poor  fellow,  he  hasn't  often  a  chance  of 
exhibiting,  as  his  wife  keeps  him  so  much  out  of  sight."  Not 
wishing  to  appear  desirous  of  engrossing  the  public  attention, 
and  feeling  rather  desirous  to  see  how  Tawno,  of  whose  exploits 
in  leaping  horses  I  had  frequently  heard,  would  acquit  himself  in 
the  affair,  I  at  length  dismounted,  and  Tawno  a  bound,  leaped 
into  the  saddle,  where  he  really  looked  like  Gunnar  of  Hlitharend, 
save  and  except  the  complexion  of  Gunnar  was  florid,  whereas 
that  of  Tawno  was  of  nearly  Mulatto  darkness ;  and  that  all 
Tawno's  features  were  cast  in  the  Grecian  model,  whereas  Gunnar 
had  a  snub  nose.  "There's  a  leaping-bar  behind  the  house," 
said  the  landlord.  "  Leaping-bar  ! "  said  Mr.  Petulengro  scorn- 
fully. "  Do  you  think  my  black  pal  ever  rides  at  a  leaping-bar? 
No  more  than  at  a  windle-straw.  Leap  over  that  meadow-wall, 
Tawno."  Just  past  the  house,  in  the  direction  in  which  I  had 


i2o  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1815. 

been  trotting,  was  a  wall  about  four  feet  high,  beyond  which  was 
a  small  meadow.  Tawno  rode  the  horse  gently  up  to  the  wall, 
permitted  him  to  look  over,  then  backed  him  for  about  ten  yards, 
and  pressing  his  calves  against  the  horse's  sides,  he  loosed  the 
rein,  and  the  horse  launching  forward,  took  the  leap  in  gallant 
style.  "  Well  done,  man  and  horse ! "  said  Mr.  Petulengro ;  "  now 
come  back,  Tawno. "  The  leap  from  the  side  of  the  meadow  was, 
however,  somewhat  higher ;  and  the  horse,  when  pushed  at  it,  at 
first  turned  away;  whereupon  Tawno  backed  him  to  a  greater 
distance,  pushed  the  horse  to  a  full  gallop,  giving  a  wild  cry; 
whereupon  the  horse  again  took  the  wall,  slightly  grazing  one  of 
his  legs  against  it  "A  near  thing,"  said  the  landlord,  " but  a 
good  leap.  Now,  no  more  leaping,  so  long  as  I  have  control  over 
the  animal."  The  horse  was  then  led  back  to  the  stable ;  and 
the  landlord,  myself  and  companions  going  into  the  bar,  I  paid 
down  the  money  for  the  horse. 

Scarcely  was  the  bargain  concluded,  when  two  or  three  of  the 
company  began  to  envy  me  the  possession  of  the  horse,  and  forcing 
their  way  into  the  bar,  with  much  noise  and  clamour,  said  that  the 
horse  had  been  sold  too  cheap.  One  fellow,  in  particular,  with  a 
red  waistcoat,  the  son  of  a  wealthy  farmer,  said  that  if  he  had  but 
known  that  the  horse  had  been  so  good  a  one,  he  would  have 
bought  it  at  the  first  price  asked  for  it,  which  he  was  now  willing 
to  pay,  that  is  to-morrow,  supposing — "  supposing  your  father  will 
let  you  have  the  money,"  said  the  landlord,  "which,  after  all, 
might  not  be  the  case ,  but,  however  that  may  be,  it  is  too  late 
now.  I  think  myself  the  horse  has  been  sold  for  too  little  money, 
but  if  so,  all  the  better  for  the  young  man,  who  came  forward 
when  no  other  body  did  with  his  money  in  his  hand.  There,  take 
yourselves  out  of  my  bar,"  said  he  to  the  fellows ;  "  and  a  pretty 
scoundrel  you,"  said  he  to  the  man  of  the  red  waistcoat,  "to  say 
the  horse  has  been  sold  too  cheap ;  why,  it  was  only  yesterday 
you  said  he  was  good  for  nothing,  and  were  passing  all  kinds  of 
jokes  at  him.  Take  yourself  out  of  my  bar,  I  say,  you  and  all  of 
you,"  and  he  turned  the  fellows  out.  I  then  asked  the  landlord 
whether  he  would  permit  the  horse  to  remain  in  the  stable  for 
a  short  time,  provided  I  paid  for  his  entertainment;  and  on  his 
willingly  consenting,  I  treated  my  friends  with  ale,  and  then  re- 
turned with  them  to  the  encampment. 

That  evening  I  informed  Mr.  Petulengro  and  his  party  that  on 
the  morrow  I  intended  to  mount  my  horse  and  leave  that  part  of 
the  country  in  quest  of  adventures ;  inquiring  of  Jasper  where,  in  the 
event  of  my  selling  the  horse  advantageously,  I  might  meet  with 


1825.]  THE  GIFT.  i«i 

him,  and  repay  the  money  I  had  borrowed  of  him  ;  whereupon  Mr. 
Petulengro  informed  me  that  in  about  ten  weeks  I  might  find  him 
at  a  certain  place  at  the  Chong  gav.  I  then  stated  that  as  I  could 
not  well  carry  with  me  the  property  which  I  possessed  in  the 
dingle,  which  after  all  was  of  no  considerable  value,  I  had  resolved 
to  bestow  the  said  property,  namely,  the  pony,  tent,  tinker-tools, 
etc.,  on  Ursula  and  her  husband,  partly  because  they  were  poor, 
and  partly  on  account  of  the  great  kindness  which  I  bore  to 
Ursula,  from  whom  I  had,  on  various  occasions,  experienced  all 
manner  of  civility,  particularly  in  regard  to  crabbed  words.  On 
hearing  this  intelligence,  Ursula  returned  many  thanks  to  her 
gentle  brother,  as  she  called  me,  and  Sylvester  was  so  overjoyed 
that,  casting  aside  his  usual  phlegm,  he  said  I  was  the  best  friend 
he  had  ever  had  in  the  world,  and  in  testimony  of  his  gratitude 
swore  that  he  would  permit  me  to  give  his  wife  a  choomer  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  company,  which  offer,  however,  met  with  a 
very  mortifying  reception,  the  company  frowning  disapprobation, 
Ursula  protesting  against  anything  of  the  kind,  and  I  myself  show- 
ing no  forwardness  to  avail  myself  of  it,  having  inherited  from 
nature  a  considerable  fund  of  modesty,  to  which  was  added  no 
slight  store  acquired  in  the  course  of  my  Irish  education.  I  passed 
that  night  alone  in  the  dingle  in  a  very  melancholy  manner,  with 
little  or  no  sleep,  thinking  of  Isopel  Berners ,  and  in  the  morning 
when  I  quitted  it  I  shed  several  tears,  as  I  reflected  that  I  should 
probably  never  again  see  the  spot  where  I  had  passed  so  many 
hours  in  her  company. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ON  reaching  the  plain  above,  1  found  my  Romany  friends  break- 
fasting, and  on  being  asked  by  Mr.  Petulengro  to  join  them,  I 
accepted  the  invitation.  No  sooner  was  breakfast  over  than  I 
informed  Ursula  and  her  husband  that  they  would  find  the  property, 
which  I  had  promised  them,  below  in  the  dingle,  commending  the 
little  pony  Ambrol  to  their  best  care.  I  took  leave  of  the  whole 
company,  which  was  itself  about  to  break  up  camp  and  to  depart 
in  the  direction  of  London,  and  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  the 
public-house.  I  had  a  small  bundle  in  my  hand,  and  was  dressed 
in  the  same  manner  as  when  I  departed  from  London,  having  left 
my  waggoner's  slop  with  the  other  effects  in  the  dingle.  On 
arriving  at  the  public-house,  I  informed  the  landlord  that  I  was 
come  for  my  horse,  inquiring,  at  the  same  time,  whether  he  could 
not  accommodate  me  with  a  bridle  and  saddle.  He  told  me  that 
the  bridle  and  saddle,  with  which  I  had  ridden  the  horse  on  the 
preceding  day,  were  at  my  service  for  a  trifle ;  that  he  had  received 
them  some  time  since  in  payment  for  a  debt,  and  that  he  had 
himself  no  use  for  them.  The  leathers  of  the  bridle  were  rather 
shabby,  and  the  bit  rusty,  and  the  saddle  was  old-fashioned ;  but 
I  was  happy  to  purchase  them  for  seven  shillings,  more  especially 
as  the  landlord  added  a  small  valise,  which  he  said  could  be 
strapped  to  the  saddle,  and  which  I  should  find  very  convenient 
for  carrying  my  things  in.  I  then  proceeded  to  the  stable,  told 
the  horse  we  were  bound  on  an  expedition,  and  giving  him  a  feed 
of  corn,  left  him  to  discuss  it,  and  returned  to  the  bar-room  to 
have  a  little  farewell  chat  with  the  landlord,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  drink  with  him  a  farewell  glass  of  ale.  Whilst  we  were  talking 
and  drinking,  the  niece  came  and  joined  us :  she  was  a  decent, 
sensible  young  woman,  who  appeared  to  take  a  great  interest  in 
her  uncle,  whom  she  regarded  with  a  singular  mixture  of  pride 
and  disapprobation — pride  tor  the  renown  which  he  had  acquired 
by  his  feats  of  old,  and  disapprobation  for  his  late  imprudences. 
She  said  that  she  hoped  that  his  misfortunes  would  be  a  warning 
to  him  to  turn  more  to  his  God  than  he  had  hitherto  done,  and  to 
give  up  cock-fighting  and  other  low-life  practices.  To  which  the 

(laa) 


i8*5-]  THE  DEPARTURE.  1*3 

landlord  replied,  that  with  respect  to  cock-fighting  he  intended  to 
give  it  up  entirely,  being  determined  no  longer  to  risk  his  capital 
upon  birds,  and  with  respect  to  his  religious  duties,  he  should 
attend  the  church  of  which  he  was  churchwarden  at  least  once  a 
quarter,  adding,  however,  that  he  did  not  intend  to  become  either 
canter  or  driveller,  neither  of  which  characters  would  befit  a 
publican  surrounded  by  such  customers  as  he  was,  and  that  to 
the  last  day  of  his  life  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  make  use  of  his  fists. 
After  a  stay  of  about  two  hours  I  settled  accounts,  and  having 
bridled  and  saddled  my  horse,  and  strapped  on  the  valise,  I 
mounted,  shook  hands  with  the  landlord  and  his  niece,  and 
departed,  notwithstanding  that  they  both  entreated  me  to  tarry 
until  the  evening,  it  being  then  the  heat  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  XXI, 

I  BENT  my  course  in  the  direction  of  the  north,  more  induced 
by  chance  than  any  particular  motive ;  all  quarters  of  the  world 
having  about  equal  attractions  for  me.  I  was  in  high  spirits  at 
finding  myself  once  more  on  horseback,  and  trotted  gaily  on, 
until  the  heat  of  the  weather  induced  me  to  slacken  my  pace, 
more  out  of  pity  for  my  horse  than  because  I  felt  any  particular 
inconvenience  from  it — heat  and  cold  being  then,  and  still,  matters 
of  great  indifference  to  me.  What  I  thought  of  I  scarcely  know, 
save  and  except  that  I  have  a  glimmering  recollection  that  I  felt 
some  desire  to  meet  with  one  of  those  adventures  which  upon  the 
roads  of  England  are  generally  as  plentiful  as  blackberries  in 
autumn ;  and  Fortune,  who  has  generally  been  ready  to  gratify 
my  inclinations,  provided  it  cost  her  very  little  by  so  doing,  was 
not  slow  in  furnishing  me  with  an  adventure,  perhaps  as  character- 
istic of  the  English  roads  as  anything  which  could  have  happened. 
I  might  have  travelled  about  six  miles  amongst  cross  roads 
and  lanes,  when  suddenly  I  found  myself  upon  a  broad  and  very 
dusty  road  which  seemed  to  lead  due  north.  As  I  wended  along 
this  I  saw  a  man  upon  a  donkey  riding  towards  me.  The  man 
was  commonly  dressed,  with  a  broad  felt  hat  on  his  head,  and  a 
kind  of  satchel  on  his  back  ;  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  mighty  hurry, 
and  was  every  now  and  then  belabouring  the  donkey  with  a 
cudgel.  The  donkey,  however,  which  was  a  fine  large  creature 
of  the  silver-grey  species,  did  not  appear  to  sympathise  at  all  with 
its  rider  in  his  desire  to  get  on,  but  kept  its  head  turned  back  as 
much  as  possible,  moving  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the  other, 
and  not  making  much  forward  way.  As  I  passed,  being  naturally 
of  a  very  polite  disposition,  I  gave  the  man  the  sele  of  the  day, 
asking  him,  at  the  same  time,  why  he  beat  the  donkey ;  where- 
upon the  fellow  eyeing  me  askance,  told  me  to  mind  my  own 
business,  with  the  addition  of  something  which  I  need  not  repeat. 
I  had  not  proceeded  a  furlong  before  I  saw  seated  on  the  dust 
by  the  wayside,  close  by  a  heap  of  stones,  and  with  several  flints 
before  him,  a  respectable-looking  old  man,  with  a  straw  hat  and  a 
white  smock,  who  was  weeping  bitterly. 

("4) 


i8as.]  ADVENTURE  NO.  I.  125 

"  What  are  you  crying  for,  father  ?  "  said  I.  "  Have  you  come 
to  any  hurt?"  "  Hurt  enough,"  sobbed  the  old  man.  "I  have 
just  been  tricked  out  of  the  best  ass  in  England  by  a  villain,  who 
gave  me  nothing  but  these  trash  in  return,"  pointing  to  the  stones 
before  him.  "  I  really  scarcely  understand  you,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish 
you  would  explain  yourself  more  clearly."  "  I  was  riding  on  my 
ass  from  market,"  said  the  old  man,  "when  I  met  here  a  fellow 
with  a  sack  on  his  back,  who,  after  staring  at  the  ass  and  me  a 
moment  or  two,  asked  me  if  I  would  sell  her.  I  told  him  that  I 
could  not  think  of  selling  her,  as  she  was  very  useful  to  me,  and 
though  an  animal,  my  true  companion,  whom  I  loved  as  much  as 
if  she  were  my  wife  and  daughter.  I  then  attempted  to  pass  on, 
but  the  fellow  stood  before  me,  begging  me  to  sell  her,  saying 
that  he  would  give  me  anything  for  her ;  well,  seeing  that  he  per- 
sisted, I  said  at  last  that  if  I  sold  her,  I  must  have  six  pounds  for 
her,  and  I  said  so  to  get  rid  of  him,  for  I  saw  that  he  was  a 
shabby  fellow,  who  had  probably  not  six  shillings  in  the  world ; 
but  I  had  better  have  held  my  tongue,"  said  the  old  man,  crying 
more  bitterly  than  before,  "for  the  words  were  scarcely  out  of  my 
mouth,  when  he  said  he  would  give  me  what  I  asked,  and  taking 
the  sack  from  his  back,  he  pulled  out  a  steelyard,  and  going  to 
the  heap  of  stones  there,  he  took  up  several  of  them  and  weighed 
them,  then  flinging  them  down  before  me,  he  said :  '  There  are 
six  pounds,  neighbour ;  now,  get  off  the  ass,  and  hand  her  over  to 
me '.  Well,  I  sat  like  one  dumbfoundered  for  a  time,  till  at  last 
I  asked  him  what  he  meant  ?  '  What  do  I  mean  ? '  said  he,  '  you 
old  rascal,  why,  I  mean  to  claim  my  purchase,'  and  then  he  swore 
so  awfully,  that  scarcely  knowing  what  I  did  I  got  down,  and  he 
jumped  on  the  animal  and  rode  off  as  fast  as  he  could."  "  I 
suppose  he  was  the  fellow,"  said  I,  "  whom  I  just  now  met  upon 
a  fine  grey  ass,  which  he  was  beating  with  a  cudgel."  "  I  dare- 
say he  was,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  I  saw  him  beating  her  as  he  rode 
away,  and  I  thought  I  should  have  died."  "  I  never  heard  such 
a  story,"  said  I ;  "  well,  do  you  mean  to  submit  to  such  a  piece  of 
roguery  quietly?"  "Oh,  dear,"  said  the  old  man,  "  what  can  I 
do  ?  I  am  seventy-nine  years  of  age  ;  I  am  bad  on  my  feet,  and 
dar'n'tgo  after  him."  "Shall  I  go?"  said  I;  "the  fellow  is  a 
thief,  and  any  one  has  a  right  to  stop  him."  "  Oh,  if  you  could 
but  bring  her  again  to  me,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  would  bless  you 
to  my  dying  day ;  but  have  a  care ;  I  don't  know  but  after  all 
the  law  may  say  that  she  is  his  lawful  purchase.  I  asked  six 
pounds  for  her,  and  he  gave  me  six  pounds."  "Six  flints,  you 
mean,"  said  I ;  "  no,  no,  the  law  is  not  quite  so  bad  as  that  either ; 


126  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

I  know  something  about  her,  and  am  sure  that  she  will  never 
sanction  such  a  quibble.     At  all  events,  I'll  ride  after  the  fellow." 
Thereupon  turning  the  horse  round,  I  put  him  to  his  very  best 
trot ;    I  rode  nearly  a  mile  without  obtaining  a  glimpse  of  the 
fellow,  and  was  becoming  apprehensive  that  he  had  escaped  me  by 
turning  down  some  by-path,  two  or  three  of  which  I  had  passed. 
Suddenly,  however,  on  the  road  making  a  slight  turning,  I  per- 
ceived him  right  before  me,  moving  at  a  tolerably  swift  pace, 
having  by  this  time  probably  overcome  the  resistance  of  the  animal. 
Putting  my  horse  to  a  full  gallop,  I  shouted  at  the  top  of  my  voice  : 
"  Get  off  that  donkey,  you  rascal,  and  give  her  up  to  me,  or  I'll  ride 
you  down  ".     The  fellow  hearing  the  thunder  of  the  horse's  hoofs 
behind  him,  drew  up  on  one  side  of  the  road.     "  What  do  you 
want  ?  "  said  he,  as  I  stopped  my  charger,  now  almost  covered  with 
sweat  and  foam  close  beside  him.     "  Do  you  want  to  rob  me?" 
"  To  rob  you  ?  "  said  I.         "  No  !  but  to  take  from  you  that  ass, 
of  which  you  have  just  robbed  its  owner."     "  I  have  robbed  no 
man,"  said  the  fellow;    "I  just  now  purchased  it  fairly  of  its 
master,  and  the  law  will  give  it  to  me ;  he  asked  six  pounds  for 
it,  and  I  gave  him  six  pounds."     "Six  stones,  you  mean,  you 
rascal,"  said  I ;  "get  down,  or  my  horse  shall  be  upon  you  in  a 
moment ; "  then  with  a  motion  of  my  reins,  I  caused  the  horse 
to  rear,  pressing  his  sides  with  my  heels  as  if  I  intended  to  make 
him  leap.     "  Stop,"  said  the  man,  "  I'll  get  down  and  then  try  if 
I  can't  serve  you  out."     He  then  got  down,  and  confronted  me 
with  his  cudgel ;  he  was  a  horrible-looking  fellow,  and  seemed 
prepared  for  anything.     Scarcely,  however,  had  he  dismounted, 
when  the  donkey  jerked  the  bridle  out  of  his  hand,  and  probably 
in  revenge  for  the  usage  she  had  received,  gave  him  a  pair  of 
tremendous  kicks  on  the  hip  with  her  hinder  legs,  which  over- 
turned him,  and  then  scampered  down  the  road  the  way  she  had 
come.     "  Pretty  treatment  this,"  said  the  fellow,  getting  up  with- 
out his  cudgel,  and  holding  his  hand  to  his  side ;  "  I  wish  I  may 
not  be  lamed  for  life  ".    "  And  if  you  be,"  said  I,  "  it  would  merely 
serve  you  right,  you  rascal,  for  trying  to  cheat  a  poor  old  man  out 
of  his  property  by  quibbling  at  words."     "  Rascal ! "  said  the 
fellow,  "  you  lie,  I  am  no  rascal ;  and  as  for  quibbling  with  words 
— suppose  I  did  1     What  then  ?    All  the  first  people  does  it ! 
The  newspapers  does  it !  the  gentlefolks  that  calls  themselves  the 
guides  of  the  popular  mind  does  it !     I'm  no  ignoramus.    I  reads 
the  newspapers,  and  knows  what's  what."     "  You  read  them  to 
some  purpose,"  said  I.     "  Well,  if  you  are  lamed  for  life,  and  un- 
fitted for  any  active  line — turn  newspaper  editor ;  I  should  say 


1825.]  "CONFOUND  YOU!"  127 

you  are  perfectly  qualified,  and  this  day's  adventure  may  be  the 
foundation  of  your  fortune,"  thereupon  I  turned  round  and  rode 
off.  The  fellow  followed  me  with  a  torrent  of  abuse.  "  Confound 
you,"  said  he — yet  that  was  not  the  expression  either — "  I  know 
you  ;  you  are  one  of  the  horse-patrol  come  down  into  the  country 
on  leave  to  see  your  relations.  Confound  you,  you  and  the  like  of 
you  have  knocked  my  business  on  the  head  near  Lunnon,  and 
I  suppose  we  shall  have  you  shortly  in  the  country."  "  To  the 
newspaper  office,"  said  I,  "and  fabricate  falsehoods  out  of  flint 
stones  ;  "  then  touching  the  horse  with  my  heels,  I  trotted  off,  and 
coming  to  the  place  where  I  had  seen  the  old  man,  I  found  him 
there,  risen  from  the  ground,  and  embracing  his  ass. 

I  told  him  that  I  was  travelling  down  the  road,  and  said  that 
if  his  way  lay  in  the  same  direction  as  mine  he  could  do  no  better 
than  accompany  me  for  some  distance,  lest  the  fellow  who,  for 
aught  I  knew,  might  be  hovering  nigh,  might  catch  him  alone, 
and  again  get  his  ass  from  him.  After  thanking  me  for  my  offer, 
which  he  said  he  would  accept,  he  got  upon  his  ass,  and  we 
proceeded  together  down  the  road.  My  new  acquaintance  said 
very  little  of  his  own  accord ;  and  when  I  asked  him  a  question, 
answered  rather  incoherently.  I  heard  him  every  now  and  then 
say,  "  Villain  ! "  to  himself,  after  which  he  would  pat  the  donkey's 
neck,  from  which  circumstance  I  concluded  that  his  mind  was 
occupied  with  his  late  adventure.  After  travelling  about  two 
miles,  we  reached  a  place  where  a  drift-way  on  the  right  led  from 
the  great  road;  here  my  companion  stopped,  and  on  my  asking 
whether  he  was  going  any  farther,  he  told  me  that  the  path  to  the 
right  was  the  way  to  his  home. 

I  was  bidding  him  farewell,  when  he  hemmed  once  or  twice, 
and  said,  that  as  he  did  not  live  far  off,  he  hoped  that  I  would 
go  with  him  and  taste  some  of  his  mead.  As  I  had  never  tasted 
mead,  of  which  I  had  frequently  read  in  the  compositions  of  the 
Welsh  bards,  and,  moreover,  felt  rather  thirsty  from  the  heat  of 
the  day,  I  told  him  that  I  should  have  great  pleasure  in  attending 
him.  Whereupon,  turning  off  together,  we  proceeded  about  half 
a  mile,  sometimes  between  stone  walls,  and  at  other  times  hedges, 
till  we  reached  a  small  hamlet,  through  which  we  passed,  and 
presently  came  to  a  very  pretty  cottage,  delightfully  situated  within 
a  garden,  surrounded  by  a  hedge  of  woodbines.  Opening  a  gate 
at  one  corner  of  the  garden  he  led  the  way  to  a  large  shed,  which 
stood  partly  behind  the  cottage,  which  he  said  was  his  stable ; 
thereupon  he  dismounted  and  led  his  donkey  into  the  shed,  which 
was  without  stalls,  but  had  a  long  rack  and  manger.  On  one  side 


128  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

he  tied  his  donkey,  after  taking  off  her  caparisons,  and  I  followed 
his  example,  tying  my  horse  at  the  other  side  with  a  rope  halter 
which  he  gave  me ;  he  then  asked  me  to  come  in  and  taste  his 
mead,  hut  I  told  him  that  I  must  attend  to  the  comfort  of  my 
horse  first,  and  forthwith,  taking  a  wisp  of  straw,  rubbed  him 
carefully  down.  Then  taking  a  pailful  of  clear  water  which  stood 
in  the  shed,  I  allowed  the  horse  to  drink  about  half  a  pint ;  and 
then  turning  to  the  old  man,  who  all  the  time  had  stood  by  look- 
ing at  my  proceedings,  I  asked  him  whether  he  had  any  oats  ? 
"  I  have  all  kinds  of  grain,"  he  replied ;  and,  going  out,  he 
presently  returned  with  two  measures,  one  a  large  and  the  other 
a  small  one,  both  filled  with  oats,  mixed  with  a  few  beans,  and 
handing  the  large  one  to  me  for  the  horse,  he  emptied  the  other 
before  the  donkey,  who,  before  she  began  to  despatch  it,  turned 
her  nose  to  her  master's  face,  and  fairly  kissed  him.  Having  given 
my  horse  his  portion,  I  told  the  old  man  that  I  was  ready  to  taste 
his  mead  as  soon  as  he  pleased,  whereupon  he  ushered  me  into 
his  cottage,  where,  making  me  sit  down  by  a  deal  table  in  a  neatly 
sanded  kitchen,  he  produced  from  an  old-fashioned  closet  a 
bottle,  holding  about  a  quart,  and  a  couple  of  cups,  which  might 
each  contain  about  half  a  pint,  then  opening  the  bottle  and  filling 
the  cups  with  a  brown-coloured  liquor,  he  handed  one  to  me,  and 
taking  a  seat  opposite  to  me  he  lifted  the  other,  nodded,  and  saying 
to  me  :  "  Health  and  welcome,"  placed  it  to  his  lips  and  drank. 

"  Health  and  thanks,"  I  replied,  and  being  very  thirsty, 
emptied  my  cup  at  a  draught.  I  had  scarcely  done  so,  however, 
when  I  half-repented.  The  mead  was  deliciously  sweet  and 
mellow,  but  appeared  strong  as  brandy;  my  eyes  reeled  in  my 
head,  and  my  brain  became  slightly  dizzy.  "  Mead  is  a  strong 
drink,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  looked  at  me,  with  half  a  smile 
on  his  countenance.  "This  is  at  any  rate,"  said  I,  "so  strong, 
indeed,  that  I  would  not  drink  another  cup  for  any  consideration." 
"And  I  would  not  ask  you,"  said  the  old  man ;  "for,  if  you  did, 
you  would  most  probably  be  stupid  all  day,  and  wake  next 
morning  with  a  headache.  Mead  is  a  good  drink,  but  woundily 
strong,  especially  to  those  who  be  not  used  to  it,  as  I  suppose  you 
are  not."  " Where  do  you  get  it ? "  said  I.  "I  make  it  myself," 
said  the  old  man,  "  from  the  honey  which  my  bees  make." 
"Have  you  many  bees?  "  I  inquired.  "A  great  many,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  And  do  you  keep  them,"  said  I,  "  for  the  sake  of 
making  mead  with  their  honey?"  "I  keep  them,"  he  replied, 
"partly  because  I  am  fond  of  them,  and  partly  for  what  they  bring 
me  in ;  they  make  me  a  great  deal  of  honey,  some  of  which  I  sell, 


1825.]  A  RURAL  SCENE.  129 

and  with  a  little  I  make  rne  some  mead  to  warm  my  poor  heart  with, 
or  occasionally  to  treat  a  friend  with  like  yourself."  "  And  do  you 
support  yourself  entirely  by  means  of  your  bees  ?  "  "  No,"  said 
the  old  man ;  "  I  have  a  little  bit  of  ground  behind  my  house, 
which  is  my  principal  means  of  support."  "And  do  you  live 
alone  ?"  "  Yes,"  said  he  ;  "  with  the  exception  of  the  bees  and 
the  donkey,  I  live  quite  alone."  "  And  have  you  always  lived 
alone?"  The  old  man  emptied  his  cup,  and  his  heart  being 
warmed  with  the  mead,  he  told  me  his  history,  which  was  simplicity 
itself.  His  father  was  a  small  yeoman,  who,  at  his  death,  had  left 
him,  his  only  child,  the  cottage,  with  a  small  piece  of  ground 
behind  it,  and  on  this  little  property  he  had  lived  ever  since. 
About  the  age  of  twenty-five  he  had  married  an  industrious  young 
woman,  by  whom  he  had  one  daughter,  who  died  before  reaching 
years  of  womanhood.  His  wife,  however,  had  survived  her 
daughter  many  years,  and  had  been  a  great  comfort  to  him, 
assisting  him  in  his  rural  occupations;  but,  about  four  years 
before  the  present  period,  he  had  lost  her,  since  which  time  he 
had  lived  alone,  making  himself  as  comfortable  as  he  could ; 
cultivating  his  ground,  with  the  help  of  a  lad  from  the  neighbour- 
ing village,  attending  to  his  bees,  and  occasionally  riding  his 
donkey  to  market,  and  hearing  the  word  of  God,  which  he  said 
he  was  sorry  he  could  not  read,  twice  a  week  regularly  at  the 
parish  church.  Such  was  the  old  man's  tale. 

When  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  led  me  behind  his  house, 
and  showed  me  his  little  domain.  It  consisted  of  about  two  acres 
in  admirable  cultivation ;  a  small  portion  of  it  formed  a  kitchen 
garden,  whilst  the  rest  was  sown  with  four  kinds  of  grain,  wheat, 
barley,  peas  and  beans.  The  air  was  full  of  ambrosial  sweets, 
resembling  those  proceeding  from  an  orange  grove,  a  place  which 
though  I  had  never  seen  at  that  time,  I  since  have.  In  the  garden 
was  the  habitation  of  the  bees,  a  long  box,  supported  upon  three 
oaken  stumps.  It  was  full  of  small  round  glass  windows,  and 
appeared  to  be  divided  into  a  great  many  compartments,  much 
resembling  drawers  placed  sideways.  He  told  me  that,  as  one 
compartment  was  filled,  the  bees  left  it  for  another ;  so  that, 
whenever  he  wanted  honey,  he  could  procure  some  without  injuring 
the  insects.  Through  the  little  round  windows  I  could  see  several 
of  the  bees  at  work ;  hundreds  were  going  in  and  out  of  the  doors  ; 
hundreds  were  buzzing  about  on  the  flowers,  the  woodbines  and 
beans.  As  I  looked  around  on  the  well-cultivated  field,  the 
garden,  and  the  bees,  I  thought  I  had  never  before  seen  so  rural 
and  peaceful  a  scene. 

9 


130  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

When  we  returned  to  the  cottage  we  again  sat  down,  and  I 
asked  the  old  man  whether  he  was  not  afraid  to  live  alone.  He 
told  me  that  he  was  not,  for  that,  upon  the  whole,  his  neighbours 
were  very  kind  to  him.  I  mentioned  the  fellow  who  had  swindled 
him  of  his  donkey  upon  the  road.  "  That  was  no  neighbour  of 
mine,"  said  the  old  man,  "and,  perhaps,  I  shall  never  see  him 
again,  or  his  like."  "It's  a  dreadful  thing,"  said  I,  "to  have  no 
other  resource,  when  injured,  than  to  shed  tears  on  the  road." 
"  It  is  so,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  but  God  saw  the  tears  of  the  old, 
and  sent  a  helper."  "Why  did  you  not  help  yourself?"  said  I. 
"  Instead  of  getting  off  your  ass,  why  did  you  not  punch  at  the 
fellow,  or  at  any  rate  use  dreadful  language,  call  him  villain,  and 
shout  robbery?"  "Punch!"  said  the  old  man,  "shout!  what, 
with  these  hands,  and  this  voice — Lord,  how  you  run  on  !  I  am 
old,  young  chap,  I  am  old  !  "  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  it  is  a  shameful 
thing  to  cry  even  when  old."  "  You  think  so  now,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  because  you  are  young  and  strong ;  perhaps  when  you  are 
as  old  as  I,  you  will  not  be  ashamed  to  cry." 

Upon  the  whole  I  was  rather  pleased  with  the  old  man,  and 
much  with  all  about  him.  As  evening  drew  nigh,  I  told  him  that 
I  must  proceed  on  my  journey ;  whereupon  he  invited  me  to  tarry 
with  him  during  the  night,  telling  me  that  he  had  a  nice  room  and 
bed  above  at  my  service.  I,  however,  declined,  and  bidding 
him  farewell,  mounted  my  horse  and  departed.  Regaining  the 
road,  I  proceeded  once  more  in  the  direction  of  the  north ;  and, 
after  a  few  hours,  coming  to  a  comfortable  public-house,  I  stopped, 
and  put  up  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

I  DID  not  awake  till  rather  late  the  next  morning,  and  when  I 
did,  I  felt  considerable  drowsiness,  with  a  slight  headache,  which 
I  was  uncharitable  enough  to  attribute  to  the  mead  which  I  had 
drunk  on  the  preceding  day.  After  feeding  my  horse,  and  break- 
fasting, I  proceeded  on  my  wanderings.  Nothing  occurred  worthy 
of  relating  till  midday  was  considerably  past,  when  I  came  to  a 
pleasant  valley,  between  two  gentle  hills.  I  had  dismounted,  in 
order  to  ease  my  horse,  and  was  leading  him  along  by  the  bridle, 
when,  on  my  right,  behind  a  bank  in  which  some  umbrageous 
ashes  were  growing,  I  heard  a  singular  noise.  I  stopped  short 
and  listened,  and  presently  said  to  myself:  "  Surely  this  is  snoring, 
perhaps  that  of  a  hedgehog  ".  On  further  consideration,  however, 
I  was  convinced  that  the  noise  which  I  heard,  and  which  certainly 
seemed  to  be  snoring,  could  not  possibly  proceed  from  the  nostrils 
of  so  small  an  animal,  but  must  rather  come  from  those  of  a  giant, 
so  loud  and  sonorous  was  it.  About  two  or  three  yards  farther 
was  a  gate,  partly  open,  to  which  I  went,  and  peeping  into  the 
field,  saw  a  man  lying  on  some  rich  grass,  under  the  shade  of 
one  of  the  ashes ;  he  was  snoring  away  at  a  great  rate.  Impelled 
by  curiosity,  I  fastened  the  bridle  of  my  horse  to  the  gate,  and 
went  up  to  the  man.  He  was  a  genteelly- dressed  individual; 
rather  corpulent,  with  dark  features,  and  seemingly  about  forty- 
five.  He  lay  on  his  back,  his  hat  slightly  over  his  brow,  and  at 
his  right  hand  lay  an  open  book.  So  strenuously  did  he  snore 
that  the  wind  from  his  nostrils  agitated,  perceptibly,  a  fine  cambric 
frill  which  he  wore  at  his  bosom.  I  gazed  upon  him  for  some 
time,  expecting  that  he  might  awake ;  but  he  did  not,  but  kept 
on  snoring,  his  breast  heaving  convulsively.  At  last,  the  noise  he 
made  became  so  terrible,  that  I  felt  alarmed  for  his  safety, 
imagining  that  a  fit  might  seize  him,  and  he  lose  his  life  while 
fast  asleep.  I  therefore  exclaimed  :  "  Sir,  sir,  awake  !  you  sleep 
overmuch  ".  But  my  voice  failed  to  rouse  him,  and  he  continued 
snoring  as  before;  whereupon  I  touched  him  slightly  with  my 
riding  wand,  but  failing  to  wake  him,  I  touched  him  again  more 
vigorously;  whereupon  he  opened  his  eyes,  and,  probably  imagin- 


132  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

ing  himself  in  a  dream,  closed  them  again.  But  I  was  determined 
to  arouse  him,  and  cried  as  loud  as  I  could :  "  Sir,  sir,  pray  sleep 
no  more !"  He  heard  what  I  said,  opened  his  eyes  again,  stared 
at  me  with  a  look  of  some  consciousness,  and,  half-raising  himself 
upon  his  elbows,  asked  me  what  was  the  matter.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,"  said  I,  "  but  I  took  the  liberty  of  awaking  you,  because 
you  appeared  to  be  much  disturbed  in  your  sleep ;  I  was  fearful, 
too,  that  you  might  catch  a  fever  from  sleeping  under  a  tree."  "  I 
run  no  risk,"  said  the  man,  "  I  often  come  and  sleep  here ;  and 
as  for  being  disturbed  in  my  sleep,  I  felt  very  comfortable ;  I  wish 
you  had  not  awoke  me."  "Well,"  said  I,  "I  beg  your  pardon 
once  more.  I  assure  you  that  what  I  did  was  with  the  best 
intention."  "  Oh !  pray  make  no  further  apology,"  said  the 
individual ;  "I  make  no  doubt  that  what  you  did  was  done 
kindly;  but  there's  an  old  proverb,  to  the  effect,  'that  you  should 
let  sleeping  dogs  lie,'  "  he  added  with  a  smile.  Then,  getting  up, 
and  stretching  himself  with  a  yawn,  he  took  up  his  book  and 
said  :  "  I  have  slept  quite  long  enough,  and  it's  quite  time  for  me 
to  be  going  home."  "Excuse  my  curiosity,"  said  I,  "if  I  inquire 
what  may  induce  you  to  come  and  sleep  in  this  meadow?"  "To 
tell  you  the  truth,"  answered  he,  "  I  am  a  bad  sleeper."  "  Pray, 
pardon  me,"  said  I,  "  if  I  tell  you  that  I  never  saw  one  sleep  more 
heartily."  "  If  I  did  so,"  said  the  individual,  "I  am  beholden  to 
this  meadow  and  this  book ;  but  I  am  talking  riddles,  and  will 
explain  myself.  I  am  the  owner  of  a  very  pretty  property,  of 
which  this  valley  forms  part.  Some  years  ago,  however,  up 
started  a  person  who  said  the  property  was  his ;  a  lawsuit  ensued, 
and  I  was  on  the  brink  of  losing  my  all,  when,  most  unexpectedly, 
the  suit  was  determined  in  my  favour.  Owing,  however,  to 
the  anxiety  to  which  my  mind  had  been  subjected  for  years, 
my  nerves  had  become  terribly  shaken ;  and  no  sooner  was  the 
trial  terminated  than  sleep  forsook  my  pillow.  I  sometimes 
passed  nights  without  closing  an  eye ;  I  took  opiates,  but  they 
rather  increased  than  alleviated  my  malady.  About  three  weeks 
ago  a  friend  of  mine  put  this  book  into  my  hand,  and  advised  me 
to  take  it  every  day  to  some  pleasant  part  of  my  estate,  and  try 
and  read  a  page  or  two,  assuring  me,  if  I  did,  that  I  should 
infallibly  fall  asleep.  I  took  his  advice,  and  selecting  this  place, 
which  I  considered  the  pleasantest  part  of  my  property,  I  came, 
and  lying  down,  commenced  reading  the  book,  and  before  finish- 
ing a  page  was  in  a  dead  slumber.  Every  day  since  then  I  have 
repeated  the  experiment,  and  every  time  with  equal  success.  I 
am  a  single  man,  without  any  children  ;  and  yesterday  I  made  my 


1825.]  CURE  FOR  WAKEFULNESS.  133 

will,  in  which,  in  the  event  of  my  friend's  surviving  me,  I  have 
left  him  all  my  fortune,  in  gratitude  for  his  having  procured  for  me 
the  most  invaluable  of  all  blessings — sleep." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  I,  "  how  very  extraordinary !  Do  you  think 
that  your  going  to  sleep  is  caused  by  the  meadow  or  the  book  ?  " 
"  I  suppose  by  both,"  said  my  new  acquaintance,  "acting  in  co- 
operation." "It  may  be  so,"  said  I;  "the  magic  influence  does 
certainly  not  proceed  from  the  meadow  alone ;  for  since  I  have 
been  here,  I  have  not  felt  the  slightest  inclination  to  sleep.  Does 
the  book  consist  of  prose  or  poetry  ?  "  "It  consists  of  poetry," 
said  the  individual.  "  Not  Byron's?"  said  I.  "Byron's!" 
repeated  the  individual,  with  a  smile  of  contempt ;  "  no,  no  ; 
there  is  nothing  narcotic  in  Byron's  poetry.  I  don't  like  it.  I 
used  to  read  it,  but  it  thrilled,  agitated  and  kept  me  awake.  No ; 
this  is  not  Byron's  poetry,  but  the  inimitable 's  " — mention- 
ing a  name  that  I  had  never  heard  till  then.  "  Will  you  permit  me 
to  look  at  it?"  said  I.  "With  pleasure,"  he  answered,  politely 
handing  me  the  book.  I  took  the  volume,  and  glanced  over  the 
contents.  It  was  written  in  blank  verse,  and  appeared  to  abound 
in  descriptions  of  scenery  ;  there  was  much  mention  of  mountains, 
valleys,  streams  and  waterfalls,  harebells  and  daffodils.  These 
descriptions  were  interspersed  with  dialogues,  which  though  they 
proceeded  from  the  mouths  of  pedlars  and  rustics,  were  of  the 
most  edifying  description ;  mostly  on  subjects  moral  or  meta- 
physical, and  couched  in  the  most  gentlemanly  and  unexception- 
able language,  without  the  slightest  mixture  of  vulgarity,  coarseness 
or  pie-bald  grammar.  Such  appeared  to  me  to  be  the  contents 
of  the  book  ;  but  before  I  could  form  a  very  clear  idea  of  them, 
I  found  myself  nodding,  and  a  surprising  desire  to  sleep  coming 
over  me.  Rousing  myself,  however,  by  a  strong  effort,  I  closed 
the  book,  and,  returning  it  to  the  owner,  inquired  of  him, 
"  Whether  he  had  any  motive  in  coming  and  lying  down  in  the 
meadow,  besides  the  wish  of  enjoying  sleep  ? ' '  "  None  whatever," 
he  replied  ;  "  indeed,  I  should  be  very  glad  not  to  be  compelled 
to  do  so,  always  provided  I  could  enjoy  the  blessing  of  sleep  ;  for 
by  lying  down  under  trees,  I  may  possibly  catch  the  rheumatism, 
or  be  stung  by  serpents  ;  and,  moreover,  in  the  rainy  season  and 
winter  the  thing  will  be  impossible,  unless  I  erect  a  tent,  which 
will  possibly  destroy  the  charm."  "Well,"  said  I,  "you  need 
give  yourself  no  further  trouble  about  coming  here,  as  I  am  fully 
convinced  that  with  this  book  in  your  hand,  you  may  go  to  sleep 
anywhere,  as  your  friend  was  doubtless  aware,  though  he  wished 
to  interest  your  imagination  for  a  time  by  persuading  you  to  lie 


134  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

abroad  ;  therefore,  in  future,  whenever  you  feel  disposed  to  sleep, 
try  to  read  the  book,  and  you  will  be  sound  asleep  in  a  minute  } 
the  narcotic  influence  lies  in  the  book,  and  not  the  field."  "  I 
will  follow  your  advice,"  said  the  individual ;  and  this  very  night 
take  it  with  me  to  bed,  though  I  hope  in  time  to  be  able  to  sleep 
without  it,  my  nerves  being  already  much  quieted  from  the 
slumbers  I  have  enjoyed  in  this  field."  He  then  moved  towards 
the  gate,  where  we  parted,  he  going  one  way  and  I  and  my 
horse  the  other. 

More  than  twenty  years  subsequent  to  this  period,  after  much 
wandering  about  the  world,  returning  to  my  native  country,  I  was 
invited  to  a  literary  tea-party,  where,  the  discourse  turning  upon 
poetry,  I,  in  order  to  show  that  I  was  not  more  ignorant  than  my 
neighbours,  began  to  talk  about  Byron,  for  whose  writings  I  really 
entertained  considerable  admiration,  though  I  had  no  particular 
esteem  for  the  man  himself.  At  first,  I  received  no  answer  to 
what  I  said — the  company  merely  surveying  me  with  a  kind  of 
sleepy  stare.  At  length  a  lady,  about  the  age  of  forty,  with  a 
large  wart  on  her  face,  observed  in  a  drawling  tone,  "  That  she 
had  not  read  Byron — at  least,  since  her  girlhood — and  then  only 
a  few  passages ;  but  that  the  impression  on  her  mind  was  that  his 
writings  were  of  a  highly  objectionable  character."  "  I  also  read 
a  little  of  him  in  my  boyhood,"  said  a  gentleman  about  sixty,  but 
who  evidently,  from  his  dress  and  demeanour,  wished  to  appear 
about  thirty,  "  but  I  highly  disapproved  of  him  ;  for  notwith- 
standing he  was  a  nobleman,  he  is  frequently  very  coarse,  and  very 
fond  of  raising  emotion.  Now  emotion  is  what  I  dislike," 
drawling  out  the  last  syllable  of  the  word  dislike.  "  There  is  only 

one  poet  for  me — the  divine  "  and  then  he  mentioned  a 

name  which  I  had  only  once  heard,  and  afterwards  quite  forgotten, 
the  name  mentioned  by  the  snorer  in  the  field.  "Ah  !  there  is 
no  one  like  him  ! "  murmured  some  more  of  the  company ;  "  the 
poet  of  nature — of  nature  without  its  vulgarity."  I  wished  very 
much  to  ask  these  people  whether  they  were  ever  bad  sleepers, 
and  whether  they  had  read  the  poet,  so  called,  from  a  desire  of  being 
set  to  sleep.  Within  a  few  days,  however,  I  learnt  that  it  had  of 
late  become  very  fashionable  and  genteel  to  appear  half-asleep, 
and  that  one  could  exhibit  no  better  mark  of  superfine  breeding 
than  by  occasionally  in  company  setting  one's  rhonchal  organ  in 
action.  I  then  ceased  to  wonder  at  the  popularity,  which  I  found 

nearly  universal,  of  's   poetry ;   for,  certainly   in    order   to 

make  one's  self  appear  sleepy  in  company,  or  occasionally  to 
induce  sleep,  nothing  could  be  more  efficacious  than  a  slight  prelec- 


1825.]  "POOR  BYRON!"  135 

tion  of  his  poems.  So  poor  Byron,  with  his  fire  and  emotion — to 
say  nothing  of  his  mouthings  and  coxcombry — was  dethroned,  as  I 
had  prophesied  he  would  be  more  than  twenty  years  before,  on  the 
day  of  his  funeral,  though  I  had  little  idea  that  his  humiliation, 
would  have  been  brought  about  by  one,  whose  sole  strength 
consists  in  setting  people  to  sleep.  Well,  all  things  are  doomed 
to  terminate  in  sleep.  Before  that  termination,  however,  I  will 
venture  to  prophesy  that  people  will  become  a  little  more  awake, 
snoring  and  yawning  be  a  little  less  in  fashion,  and  poor  Byron  be 
once  more  reinstated  on  his  throne,  though  his  rival  will  always 
stand  a  good  chance  of  being  worshipped  by  those  whose  ruined 
nerves  are  insensible  to  the  narcotic  powers  of  opium  and 
morphine. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


I  CONTINUED  my  journey,  passing  through  one  or  two  villages. 
The  day  was  exceedingly  hot,  and  the  roads  dusty.  In  order  to 
cause  my  horse  as  little  fatigue  as  possible,  and  not  to  chafe  his 
back,  I  led  him  by  the  bridle,  my  doing  which  brought  upon  me 
a  shower  of  remarks,  jests  and  would-be  witticisms  from  the 
drivers  and  front  outside  passengers  of  sundry  stage-coaches 
which  passed  me  in  one  direction  or  the  other.  In  this  way  I 
proceeded  till  considerably  past  noon,  when  I  felt  myself  very 
fatigued,  and  my  horse  appeared  no  less  so ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  lazy  and  listless  manner  in  which  we  were  moving  on, 
tired  us  both  much  more  effectually  than  hurrying  along  at  a  swift 
trot  would  have  done,  for  I  have  observed  that  when  the  energies 
of  the  body  are  not  exerted  a  languor  frequently  comes  over  it. 
At  length  arriving  at  a  very  large  building  with  an  archway,  near 
the  entrance  of  a  town,  I  sat  down  on  what  appeared  to  be  a 
stepping-block,  and  presently  experienced  a  great  depression  of 
spirits.  I  began  to  ask  myself  whither  I  was  going,  and  what  I 
should  do  with  myself  and  the  horse  which  I  held  by  the  bridle  ?  It 
appeared  to  me  that  I  was  alone  in  the  world  with  the  poor  animal, 
who  looked  for  support  to  me,  who  knew  not  how  to  support 
myself.  Then  the  image  of  Isopel  Berners  came  into  my  mind, 
and  when  I  thought  how  I  had  lost  her  for  ever,  and  how  happy 
I  might  have  been  with  her  in  the  New  World  had  she  not  deserted 
me,  I  became  yet  more  miserable. 

As  I  sat  in  this  state  of  mind,  I  suddenly  felt  some  one  clap 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  heard  a  voice  say  :  "  Ha !  comrade  of  the 
dingle,  what  chance  has  brought  you  into  these  parts  ?  "  I  turned 
round,  and  beheld  a  man  in  the  dress  of  a  postillion,  whom  I 
instantly  recognised  as  he  to  whom  I  had  rendered  assistance  on 
the  night  of  the  storm. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  I,  "  is  it  you  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  for  I  was 
feeling  very  lonely  and  melancholy." 

"  Lonely  and  melancholy,"  he  replied,  "  how  is  that?  how  can 
any  one  be  lonely  and  melancholy  with  such  a  noble  horse  as  that 
you  hold  by  the  bridle  ?  " 


/r 


MY  INN."  137 


"The  horse,"  said  I,  "is  one  cause  of  my  melancholy,  for  I 
know  not  in  the  world  what  to  do  with  it." 

"Is  it  your  own?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  may  call  it  my  own,  though  I  borrowed  the 
money  to  purchase  it." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  sell  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  always  easy  to  find  a  purchaser  for  a  horse  like  this," 
said  I  ;  "  can  you  recommend  me  one  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Why  no,  not  exactly  ;  but  you'll  find  a  purchaser  shortly 
—  pooh  !  if  you  have  no  other  cause  for  disquiet  than  that  horse, 
cheer  up,  man,  don't  be  cast  down.  Have  you  nothing  else  on 
your  mind?  By-the-bye,  what's  become  of  the  young  woman 
you  were  keeping  company  with  in  that  queer  lodging  place  of 
yours?  " 

"  She  has  left  me,"  said  I. 

"You  quarrelled,  I  suppose?" 

"No,"  said  I,  "we  did  not  exactly  quarrel,  but  we  are 
parted." 

"Well,"  replied  he,  "but  you  will  soon  come  together  again." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "we  are  parted  for  ever." 

"  For  ever  !  Pooh  !  you  little  know  how  people  sometimes 
come  together  again  who  think  they  are  parted  for  ever.  Here's 
something  on  that  point  relating  to  myself.  You  remember,  when 
I  told  you  my  story  in  that  dingle  of  yours,  that  I  mentioned  a 
young  woman,  my  fellow-servant  when  I  lived  with  the  English 
family  in  Mumbo  Jumbo's  town,  and  how  she  and  I,  when  our 
foolish  governors  were  thinking  of  changing  their  religion,  agreed 
to  stand  by  each  other,  and  be  true  to  old  Church  of  England, 
and  to  give  our  governors  warning,  provided  they  tried  to  make  us 
renegades.  Well,  she  and  I  parted  soon  after  that,  and  never 
thought  to  meet  again,  yet  we  met  the  other  day  in  the  fields,  for 
she  lately  came  to  live  with  a  great  family  not  far  from  here,  and 
we  have  since  agreed  to  marry,  to  take  a  little  farm,  for  we  have 
both  a  trifle  of  money,  and  live  together  till  '  death  us  do  part  '. 
So  much  for  parting  for  ever  !  But  what  do  I  mean  by  keeping 
you  broiling  in  the  sun  with  your  horse's  bridle  in  your  hand,  and 
you  on  my  own  ground  ?  Do  you  know  where  you  are  ?  Why, 
that  great  house  is  my  inn,  that  is,  it's  my  master's,  the  best  fellow 
in  -  .  Come  along,  you  and  your  horse,  both  will  find  a  wel- 
come at  my  inn." 

Thereupon  he  led  the  way  into  a  large  court  in  which  there  were 
coaches,  chaises,  and  a  great  many  people  ;  taking  my  horse  from 
me,  he  led  it  into  a  nice  cool  stall,  and  fastened  it  to  the  rack  ;  he 


138  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

then  conducted  me  into  a  postillion's  keeping-room,  which  at  that 
time  chanced  to  be  empty,  and  he  then  fetched  a  pot  of  beer  and 
sat  down  by  me. 

After  a  little  conversation  he  asked  me  what  I  intended  to  do. 
and  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  did  not  know;  whereupon  he 
observed  that,  provided  I  had  no  objection,  he  had  little  doubt 
that  I  could  be  accommodated  for  some  time  at  his  inn.  "  Our 
upper  ostler,"  said  he,  "  died  about  a  week  ago ;  he  was  a  clever 
fellow,  and,  besides  his  trade,  understood  reading  and  accounts." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  I,  interrupting  him,  "  I  am  not  fitted  for  the 
place  of  ostler  ;  moreover,  I  refused  the  place  of  ostler  at  a  public- 
house,  which  was  offered  to  me  only  a  few  days  ago."  The  postillion 
burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Ostler  at  a  public-house,  indeed  !  why,  you 
would  not  compare  a  berth  at  a  place  like  that  with  the  situation 
of  ostler  at  my  inn,  the  first  road-house  in  England  !  However,  I 
was  not  thinking  of  the  place  of  ostler  for  you  ;  you  are,  as  you 
say,  not  fitted  for  it,  at  any  rate,  not  at  a  house  like  this.  We 
have,  moreover,  the  best  under-ostler  in  all  England — old  Bill, 
with  the  drawback  that  he  is  rather  fond  of  drink.  We  could 
make  shift  with  him  very  well,  provided  we  could  fall  in  with  a 
man  of  writing  and  figures,  who  could  give  an  account  of  the  hay 
and  corn  which  comes  in  and  goes  out,  and  wouldn't  object  to 
give  a  look  occasionally  at  the  yard.  Now  it  appears  to  me  that 
you  are  just  such  a  kind  of  man,  and,  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
speak  to  the  governor,  I  don't  doubt  that  he  will  gladly  take  you, 
as  he  feels  kindly  disposed  towards  you  from  what  he  has  heard 
me  say  concerning  you." 

"And  what  should  I  do  with  my  horse?  "  said  I. 

"  The  horse  need  give  you  no  uneasiness,"  said  the  postillion  ; 
"  I  know  he  will  be  welcome  here  both  for  bed  and  manger,  and, 
perhaps,  in  a  little  time  you  may  find  a  purchaser,  as  a  vast  num- 
ber of  sporting  people  frequent  this  house."  I  offered  two  or  three 
more  objections,  which  the  postillion  overcame  with  great  force  of 
argument,  and  the  pot  being  nearly  empty,  he  drained  it  to  the 
bottom  drop,  and  then  starting  up,  left  me  alone. 

In  about  twenty  minutes  he  returned,  accompanied  by  a  highly 
intelligent-looking  individual,  dressed  in  blue  and  black,  with  a 
particularly  white  cravat,  and  without  a  hat  on  his  head :  this 
individual,  whom  I  should  have  mistaken  for  a  gentleman  but  for 
the  intelligence  depicted  in  his  face,  he  introduced  to  me  as  the 
master  of  the  inn.  The  master  of  the  inn  shook  me  warmly  by 
the  hand,  told  me  that  he  was  happy  to  see  me  in  his  house,  and 
thanked  me  in  the  handsomest  terms  for  the  kindness  I  had 


1825.]  THE  GOVERNOR.  139 

shown  to  his  servant  in  the  affair  of  the  thunderstorm.  Then 
saying  that  he  was  informed  I  was  out  of  employ,  he  assured  me 
that  he  should  be  most  happy  to  engage  me  to  keep  his  hay  and 
corn  account,  and  as  general  superintendent  of  the  yard,  and  that 
with  respect  to  the  horse,  which  he  was  told  I  had,  he  begged  to 
inform  me  that  I  was  perfectly  at  liberty  to  keep  it  at  the  inn  upon 
the  very  best,  until  I  could  find  a  purchaser;  that  with  regard  to 
wages — but  he  had  no  sooner  mentioned  wages  than  I  cut  him 
short,  saying,  that  provided  I  stayed  I  should  be  most  happy  to 
serve  him  for  bed  and  board,  and  requested  that  he  would  allow 
me  until  the  next  morning  to  consider  of  his  offer ;  he  willingly 
consented  to  my  request,  and,  begging  that  I  would  call  for  any- 
thing I  pleased,  left  me  alone  with  the  postillion. 

I  passed  that  night  until  about  ten  o'clock  with  the  postillion, 
when  he  left  me,  having  to  drive  a  family  about  ten  miles  across 
the  country ;  before  his  departure,  however,  I  told  him  that  I  had 
determined  to  accept  the  offer  of  his  governor,  as  he  called  him. 
At  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  was  most  happy  that  an  offer  had 
been  made,  which  secured  to  myself  and  the  animal  a  comfortable 
retreat  at  a  moment  when  I  knew  not  whither  in  the  world  to  take 
myself  and  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  inn,  of  which  I  had  become  an  inhabitant,  was  a  place  of 
infinite  life  and  bustle.  Travellers  of  all  descriptions,  from  all  the 
cardinal  points,  were  continually  stopping  at  it ;  and  to  attend  to 
their  wants,  and  minister  to  their  convenience,  an  army  of  servants, 
of  one  description  or  other,  was  kept ;  waiters,  chambermaids, 
grooms,  postillions,  shoe-blacks,  cooks,  scullions,  and  what  not, 
for  there  was  a  barber  and  hair-dresser,  who  had  been  at  Paris, 
and  talked  French  with  a  cockney  accent,  the  French  sounding 
all  the  better,  as  no  accent  is  so  melodious  as  the  cockney.  Jacks 
creaked  in  the  kitchens  turning  round  spits,  on  which  large  joints 
of  meat  piped  and  smoked  before  the  great  big  fires.  There  was 
running  up  and  down  stairs,  and  along  galleries,  slamming  of 
doors,  cries  of  "  Coming,  sir,"  and  "  Please  to  step  this  way, 
ma'am,"  during  eighteen  hours  of  the  four-and-twenty.  Truly  a 
very  great  place  for  life  and  bustle  was  this  inn.  And  often  in 
after  life,  when  lonely  and  melancholy,  I  have  called  up  the  time 
I  spent  there,  and  never  failed  to  become  cheerful  from  the 
recollection. 

I  found  the  master  of  the  house  a  very  kind  and  civil  person. 
Before  being  an  innkeeper  he  had  been  in  some  other  line  of 
business ;  but  on  the  death  of  the  former  proprietor  of  the  inn  had 
married  his  widow,  who  was  still  alive,  but,  being  somewhat 
infirm,  lived  in  a  retired  part  of  the  house.  I  have  said  that  he 
was  kind  and  civil ;  he  was,  however,  not  one  of  those  people 
who  suffer  themselves  to  be  made  fools  of  by  anybody ;  he  knew 
his  customers,  and  had  a  calm,  clear  eye,  which  would  look 
through  a  man  without  seeming  to  do  so.  The  accommodation 
of  his  house  was  of  the  very  best  description  ;  his  wines  were  good, 
his  viands  equally  so,  and  his  charges  not  immoderate  ;  though 
he  very  properly  took  care  of  himself.  He  was  no  vulgar  inn- 
keeper, had  a  host  of  friends,  and  deserved  them  all.  During  the 
time  I  lived  with  him,  he  was  presented  by  a  large  assemblage  of 
his  friends  and  customers  with  a  dinner  at  his  own  house,  which 
was  very  costly,  and  at  which  the  best  of  wines  were  sported,  and 
after  the  dinner  with  a  piece  of  plate  estimated  at  fifty  guineas. 

(MO) 


1825.]  HAY  AND  CORN.  141 

He  received  the  plate,  made  a  neat  speech  of  thanks,  and  when 
the  bill  was  called  for,  made  another  neat  speech,  in  which  he 
refused  to  receive  one  farthing  for  the  entertainment,  ordering  in 
at  the  same  time  two  dozen  more  of  the  best  champagne,  and 
sitting  down  amidst  uproarious  applause,  and  cries  of  "  You  shall 
be  no  loser  by  it !  "  Nothing  very  wonderful  in  such  conduct, 
some  people  will  say ;  I  don't  say  there  is,  nor  have  I  any  inten- 
tion to  endeavour  to  persuade  the  reader  that  the  landlord  was  a 
Carlo  Borromeo ;  he  merely  gave  a  quid  pro  quo ;  but  it  is  not 
every  person  who  will  give  you  a  quid  pro  quo.  Had  he  been  a 
vulgar  publican,  he  would  have  sent  in  a  swinging  bill  after  receiv- 
ing the  plate;  "but  then  no  vulgar  publican  would  have  been 
presented  with  plate  " ;  perhaps  not,  but  many  a  vulgar  public 
character  has  been  presented  with  plate,  whose  admirers  never 
received  a  quid  pro  quo,  except  in  the  shape  of  a  swinging  bill. 
I  found  my  duties  of  distributing  hay  and  corn,  and  keeping 
an  account  thereof,  anything  but  disagreeable,  particularly  after  I 
had  acquired  the  good-will  of  the  old  ostler,  who  at  first  looked 
upon  me  with  rather  an  evil  eye,  considering  me  somewhat  in  the 
light  of  one  who  had  usurped  an  office  which  belonged  to  himself 
by  the  right  of  succession ;  but  there  was  little  gall  in  the  old 
fellow,  and,  by  speaking  kindly  to  him,  never  giving  myself  any 
airs  of  assumption,  but,  above  all,  by  frequently  reading  the 
newspapers  to  him — for  though  passionately  fond  of  news  and 
politics,  he  was  unable  to  read — I  soon  succeeded  in  placing 
myself  on  excellent  terms  with  him.  A  regular  character  was  that 
old  ostler;  he  was  a  Yorkshireman  by  birth,  but  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  life  in  the  vicinity  of  London,  to  which,  on  the  death  of 
his  parents,  who  were  very  poor  people,  he  went  at  a  very  early 
age.  Amongst  other  places  where  he  had  served  as  ostler  was  a 
small  inn  at  Hounslow,  much  frequented  by  highwaymen,  whose 
exploits  he  was  fond  of  narrating,  especially  those  of  Jerry 
Abershaw,  who,  he  said,  was  a  capital  rider ;  and  on  hearing  his 
accounts  of  that  worthy,  I  half  regretted  that  the  old  fellow  had 
not  been  in  London,  and  I  had  not  formed  his  acquaintance 
about  the  time  I  was  thinking  of  writing  the  life  of  the  said 
Abershaw,  not  doubting  that  with  his  assistance,  I  could  have 
produced  a  book  at  least  as  remarkable  as  the  life  and  adventures 
of  that  entirely  imaginary  personage  Joseph  Sell ;  perhaps,  how- 
ever, I  was  mistaken ;  and  whenever  Abershaw's  life  shall  appear 
before  the  public — and  my  publisher  credibly  informs  me  that  it 
has  not  yet  appeared — I  beg  and  entreat  the  public  to  state  which 
it  likes  best,  the  life  of  Abershaw  or  that  of  Sell,  for  which  latter 


143  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

work  I  am  informed  that  during  the  last  few  months  there  has 
been  a  prodigious  demand.  My  old  friend,  however,  after  talking 
of  Abershaw,  would  frequently  add,  that,  good  rider  as  Abershaw 
certainly  was,  he  was  decidedly  inferior  to  Richard  Ferguson, 
generally  called  Galloping  Dick,  who  was  a  pal  of  Abershaw's, 
and  had  enjoyed  a  career  as  long,  and  nearly  as  remarkable  as  his 
own.  I  learned  from  him  that  both  were  capital  customers  at  the 
Hounslow  inn,  and  that  he  had  frequently  drank  with  them  in  the 
corn-room.  He  said  that  no  man  could  desire  more  jolly  or 
entertaining  companions  over  a  glass  of  "  summut,"  but  that  upon 
the  road  it  was  anything  but  desirable  to  meet  them ;  there  they 
were  terrible,  cursing  and  swearing,  and  thrusting  the  muzzles  of 
their  pistols  into  people's  mouths ;  and  at  this  part  of  his  locution 
the  old  man  winked,  and  said,  in  a  somewhat  lower  voice,  that 
upon  the  whole  they  were  right  in  doing  so,  and  that  when  a 
person  had  once  made  up  his  mind  to  become  a  highwayman,  his 
best  policy  was  to  go  the  whole  hog,  fearing  nothing,  but 
making  everybody  afraid  of  him  ;  that  people  never  thought  of 
resisting  a  savage-faced,  foul-mouthed  highwayman,  and  if  he  were 
taken,  were  afraid  to  bear  witness  against  him,  lest  he  should  get 
off  and  cut  their  throats  some  time  or  other  upon  the  roads ; 
whereas  people  would  resist  being  robbed  by  a  sneaking,  pale- 
visaged  rascal,  and  would  swear  bodily  against  him  on  the  first 
opportunity,  adding,  that  Abershaw  and  Ferguson,  two  most 
awful  fellows,  had  enjoyed  a  long  career,  whereas  two  disbanded 
officers  of  the  army,  who  wished  to  rob  a  coach  like  gentlemen, 
had  begged  the  passengers'  pardon,  and  talked  of  hard  necessity, 
had  been  set  upon  by  the  passengers  themselves,  amongst  whom 
were  three  women,  pulled  from  their  horses,  conducted  to  Maid- 
stone,  and  hanged  with  as  little  pity  as  such  contemptible  fellows 
deserved.  "  There  is  nothing  like  going  the  whole  hog,"  he 
repeated,  "  and  if  ever  I  had  been  a  highwayman,  I  would  have 
done  so ;  I  should  have  thought  myself  all  the  more  safe  ;  and, 
moreover,  shouldn't  have  despised  myself.  To  curry  favour  with 
those  you  are  robbing,  sometimes  at  the  expense  of  your  own  com- 
rades, as  I  have  known  fellows  do,  why,  it  is  the  greatest  — 

11  So  it  is,"  interposed  my  friend  the  postillion,  who  chanced 
to  be  present  at  a  considerable  part  of  the  old  ostler's  discourse ; 
"it  is,  as  you  say,  the  greatest  of  humbug,  and  merely,  after  all, 
gets  a  fellow  into  trouble  ;  but  no  regular  bred  highwayman  would 
do  it.  I  say,  George,  catch  the  Pope  of  Rome  trying  to  curry 
favour  with  anybody  he  robs  ;  catch  old  Mumbo  Jumbo  currying 
favour  with  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  Dean  and 


1825.]  HIGHWAYMEN.  143 

Chapter,  should  he  meet  them  in  a  stage-coach ;  it  would  be  with 
him,  Bricconi  abbasso,  as  he  knocked  their  teeth  out  with  the 
butt  of  his  trombone ;  and  the  old  regular-built  ruffian  would  be 
all  the  safer  for  it,  as  Bill  would  say,  as  ten  to  one  the  Archbishop 
and  Chapter,  after  such  a  spice  of  his  quality,  would  be  afraid  to 
swear  against  him,  and  to  hang  him,  even  if  he  were  in  their 
power,  though  that  would  be  the  proper  way;  for,  if  it  is  the 
greatest  of  all  humbug  for  a  highwayman  to  curry  favour  with 
those  he  robs,  the  next  greatest  is  to  try  to  curry  favour  with 
a  highwayman  when  you  have  got  him,  by  letting  him  off." 

Finding  the  old  man  so  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of 
highwaymen,  and  taking  considerable  interest  in  the  subject, 
having  myself  edited  a  book  containing  the  lives  of  many  remark- 
able people  who  had  figured  on  the  highway,  I  forthwith  asked  him 
how  it  was  that  the  trade  of  highwaymen  had  become  extinct  in 
England,  as  at  present  we  never  heard  of  any  one  following  it. 
Whereupon  he  told  me  that  many  causes  had  contributed  to  bring 
about  that  result ;  the  principal  of  which  were  the  following  :  the 
refusal  to  license  houses  which  were  known  to  afford  shelter 
to  highwaymen,  which,  amongst  many  others,  had  caused  the  inn 
at  Hounslow  to  be  closed ;  the  inclosure  of  many  a  wild  heath  in 
the  country,  on  which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  lurking,  and 
particularly  the  establishing  in  the  neighbourhood  of  London  of 
a  well-armed  mounted  patrol,  who  rode  the  highwaymen  down, 
and  delivered  them  up  to  justice,  which  hanged  them  without 
ceremony. 

"  And  that  would  be  the  way  to  deal  with  Mumbo  Jumbo  and 
his  gang,"  said  the  postillion,  "  should  they  show  their  visages  in 
these  realms;  and  I  hear  by  the  newspapers  that  they  are  be- 
coming every  day  more  desperate.  Take  away  the  licence  from 
their  public-houses,  cut  down  the  rookeries  and  shadowy  old 
avenues  in  which  they  are  fond  of  lying  in  wait,  in  order  to  sally 
out  upon  people  as  they  pass  in  the  roads ;  but,  above  all,  establish 
a  good  mounted  police  to  ride  after  the  ruffians  and  drag  them  by 
the  scruff  of  the  neck  to  the  next  clink,  where  they  might  lie  till 
they  could  be  properly  dealt  with  by  law ;  instead  of  which,  the 
Government  are  repealing  the  wise  old  laws  enacted  against  such 
characters,  giving  fresh  licenses  every  day  to  their  public-houses, 
and  saying  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  cut  down  their  rookeries  and 
thickets  because  they  look  so  very  picturesque ;  and,  in  fact,  giving 
them  all  kind  of  encouragement ;  why,  if  such  behaviour  is  not 
enough  to  drive  an  honest  man  mad,  I  know  not  what  is.  It  is  of 
no  use  talking ;  I  only  wish  the  power  were  in  my  hands,  and  if 


144  THE  ROMANY  RYE. 

I  did  not  make  short  work  of  them,  might  I  be  a  mere  jackass 
postillion  all  the  remainder  of  my  life." 

Besides  acquiring  from  the  ancient  ostler  a  great  deal  of  curious 
information  respecting  the  ways  and  habits  of  the  heroes  of  the 
road,  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact  in  the  early  portion  of 
his  life,  I  picked  up  from  him  many  excellent  hints  relating  to  the 
art  of  grooming  horses.  Whilst  at  the  inn,  I  frequently  groomed 
the  stage  and  post-horses,  and  those  driven  up  by  travellers  in 
their  gigs :  I  was  not  compelled,  nor  indeed  expected,  to  do  so, 
but  I  took  pleasure  in  the  occupation ;  and  I  remember  at  thaf 
period  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  my  ambition  was  to  be  a 
first-rate  groom,  and  to  make  the  skins  of  the  creatures  I  took  in 
hand  look  sleek  and  glossy  like  those  of  moles.  I  have  said  that  I 
derived  valuable  hints  from  the  old  man,  and,  indeed,  became  a 
very  tolerable  groom,  but  there  was  a  certain  finishing  touch  which 
I  could  never  learn  from  him,  though  he  possessed  it  himself,  and 
which  Ix  could  never  attain  to  by  my  own  endeavours  ;  though  my 
want  of  success  certainly  did  not  proceed  from  want  of  application, 
for  I  have  rubbed  the  horses  down,  purring  and  buzzing  all 
the  time,  after  the  genuine  ostler  fashion,  until  the  perspiration  fell 
in  heavy  drops  upon  my  shoes,  and  when  I  had  done  my  best  and 
asked  the  old  fellow  what  he  thought  of  my  work,  I  could  never 
extract  from  him  more  than  a  kind  of  grunt,  which  might  be 
translated,  "  Not  so  very  bad,  but  I  have  seen  a  horse  groomed 
much  better/'  which  leads  me  to  suppose  that  a  person,  in  order 
to  be  a  first-rate  groom,  must  have  something  in  him  when  he  is 
born  which  I  had  not,  and,  indeed,  which  many  other  people 
have  not  who  pretend  to  be  grooms.  What  does  the  reader 
think? 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


OF  one  thing  I  am  certain,  that  the  reader  must  be  much  delighted 
with  the  wholesome  smell  of  the  stable,  with  which  many  of 
these  pages  are  redolent;  what  a  contrast  to  the  sickly  odours 
exhaled  from  those  of  some  of  my  contemporaries,  especially  of 
those  who  pretend  to  be  of  the  highly  fashionable  class,  and  who 
treat  of  reception-rooms,  well  may  they  be  styled  so,  in  which 
dukes,  duchesses,  earls,  countesses,  archbishops,  bishops,  mayors, 
mayoresses — not  forgetting  the  writers  themselves,  both  male  and 
female — congregate  and  press  upon  one  another ;  how  cheering, 
how  refreshing,  after  having  been  nearly  knocked  down  with  such 
an  atmosphere,  to  come  in  contact  with  genuine  stable  hartshorn. 
Oh  !  the  reader  shall  have  yet  more  of  the  stable,  and  of  that  old 
ostler,  for  which  he  or  she  will  doubtless  exclaim,  "  Much  obliged  !  " 
— and,  lest  I  should  forget  to  perform  my  promise,  the  reader  shall 
have  it  now. 

I  shall  never  forget  an  harangue  from  the  mouth  of  the  old 
man,  which  I  listened  to  one  warm  evening  as  he  and  I  sat  on  the 
threshold  of  the  stable,  after  having  attended  to  some  of  the  wants 
of  a  batch  of  coach-horses.  It  related  to  the  manner  in  which  a 
gentleman  should  take  care  of  his  horse  and  self,  whilst  engaged 
in  a  journey  on  horseback,  and  was  addressed  to  myself,  on  the 
supposition  of  my  one  day  coming  to  an  estate,  and  of  course 
becoming  a  gentleman. 

"  When  you  are  a  gentleman,"  said  he,  "  should  you  ever  wish 
to  take  a  journey  on  a  horse  of  your  own,  and  you  could  not  have 
a  much  better  than  the  one  you  have  here  eating  its  fill  in  the  box 
yonder — I  wonder,  by-the-bye,  how  you  ever  came  by  it — you 
can't  do  better  than  follow  the  advice  I  am  about  to  give  you,  both 
with  respect  to  your  animal  and  yourself.  Before  you  start, 
merely  give  your  horse  a  couple  of  handfuls  of  corn  and  a  little 
water,  somewhat  under  a  quart,  and  if  you  drink  a  pint  of  water 
yourself  out  of  the  pail,  you  will  feel  all  the  better  during  the 
whole  day ;  then  you  may  walk  and  trot  your  animal  for  about  ten 
miles,  till  you  come  to  some  nice  inn,  where  you  may  get  down 
and  see  your  horse  led  into  a  nice  stall,  telling  the  ostler  not  to  feed 

(i45)  10 


146  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

him  till  you  come.  If  the  ostler  happens  to  be  a  dog-fancier,  and 
has  an  English  terrier  dog  like  that  of  mine  there,  say  what  a  nice 
dog  it  is,  and  praise  its  black  and  tawn ;  and  if  he  does  not 
happen  to  be  a  dog-fancier,  ask  him  how  he's  getting  on,  and 
whether  he  ever  knew  worse  times  ;  that  kind  of  thing  will  please 
the  ostler,  and  he  will  let  you  do  just  what  you  please  with  your 
own  horse,  and  when  your  back  is  turned,  he'll  say  to  his  comrades 
what  a  nice  gentleman  you  are,  and  how  he  thinks  he  has  seen  you 
before ;  then  go  and  sit  down  to  breakfast,  and,  before  you  have 
finished  breakfast,  get  up  and  go  and  give  your  horse  a  feed  of 
corn  ;  chat  with  the  ostler  two  or  three  minutes,  till  your  horse  has 
taken  the  shine  out  of  his  corn,  which  will  prevent  the  ostler  taking 
any  of  it  away  when  your  back  is  turned,  for  such  things  are  some- 
times done — not  that  I  ever  did  such  a  thing  myself  when  I  was 
at  the  inn  at  Hounslow.  Oh,  dear  me,  no !  Then  go  and  finish 
your  breakfast,  and  when  you  have  finished  your  breakfast  and 
called  for  the  newspaper,  go  and  water  your  horse,  letting  him  have 
one  pailful,  then  give  him  another  feed  of  corn,  and  enter  into 
discourse  with  the  ostler  about  bull-baiting,  the  prime  minister, 
and  the  like  ;  and  when  your  horse  has  once  more  taken  the  shine 
out  of  his  corn,  go  back  to  your  room  and  your  newspaper,  and  I 
hope  for  your  sake  it  may  be  the  Globe,  for  that's  the  best  paper 
going,  then  pull  the  bell-rope  and  order  in  your  bill,  which  you 
will  pay  without  counting  it  up,  supposing  you  to  be  a  gentleman. 
Give  the  waiter  sixpence,  and  order  out  your  horse,  and  when  your 
horse  is  out,  pay  for  the  corn,  and  give  the  ostler  a  shilling,  then 
mount  your  horse  and  walk  him  gently  for  five  miles  ;  and  whilst 
you  are  walking  him  in  this  manner,  it  may  be  as  well  to  tell  you 
to  take  care  that  you  do  not  let  him  down  and  smash  his  knees, 
more  especially  if  the  road  be  a  particularly  good  one,  for  it  is  not 
at  a  desperate  hiverman  pace,  and  over  very  bad  roads,  that  a 
horse  tumbles  and  smashes  his  knees,  but  on  your  particularly 
nice  road,  when  the  horse  is  going  gently  and  lazily,  and  is  half 
asleep,  like  the  gemman  on  his  back  ;  well,  at  the  end  of  the  five 
miles,  when  the  horse  has  digested  his  food,  and  is  all  right,  you 
may  begin  to  push  your  horse  on,  trotting  him  a  mile  at  a  heat, 
and  then  walking  him  a  quarter  of  a  one,  that  his  wind  may  be  not 
distressed ;  and  you  may  go  on  in  that  way  for  thirty  miles,  never 
galloping,  of  course,  for  none  but  fools  or  hivermen  ever  gallop 
horses  on  roads ;  and  at  the  end  of  that  distance  you  may  stop  at 
some  other  nice  inn  to  dinner.  I  say,  when  your  horse  is  led  into 
the  stable,  after  that  same  thirty  miles'  trotting  and  walking,  don't 
let  the  saddle  be  whisked  off  at  once,  for  if  you  do  your  horse  will 


I825-]  STABLE  HARTSHORN.  147 

have  such  a  sore  back  as  will  frighten  you,  but  let  your  saddle 
remain  on  your  horse's  back,  with  the  girths  loosened,  till  after  his 
next  feed  of  corn,  and  be  sure  that  he  has  no  corn,  much  less 
water,  till  after  a  long  hour  and  more ;  after  he  is  fed  he  may  be 
watered  to  the  tune  of  half  a  pail,  and  then  the  ostler  can  give  him 
a  regular  rub  down ;  you  may  then  sit  down  to  dinner,  and  when 
you  have  dined  get  up  and  see  to  your  horse  as  you  did  after 
breakfast,  in  fact,  you  must  do  much  after  the  same  fashion  you 
did  at  t'other  inn ;  see  to  your  horse,  and  by  no  means  disoblige 
the  ostler.  So  when  you  have  seen  to  your  horse  a  second  time, 
you  will  sit  down  to  your  bottle  of  wine — supposing  you  to  be  a 
gentleman — and  after  you  have  finished  it,  and  your  argument  about 
the  corn-laws,  with  any  commercial  gentleman  who  happens  to  be 
in  the  room,  you  may  mount  your  horse  again,  not  forgetting  to  do 
the  proper  thing  to  the  waiter  and  ostler ;  you  may  mount  your 
horse  again  and  ride  him,  as  you  did  before,  for  about  five  and 
twenty  miles,  at  the  end  of  which  you  may  put  up  for  the  night 
after  a  very  fair  day's  journey,  for  no  gentleman,  supposing  he 
weighs  sixteen  stone,  as  I  suppose  you  will  by  the  time  you  become 
a  gentleman,  ought  to  ride  a  horse  more  than  sixty-five  miles  in 
one  day,  provided  he  has  any  regard  for  his  horse's  back,  or  his 
own  either.  See  to  your  horse  at  night,  and  have  him  well  rubbed 
down.  The  next  day  you  may  ride  your  horse  forty  miles,  just  as 
you  please,  but  never  foolishly,  and  those  forty  miles  will  bring 
you  to  your  journey's  end,  unless  your  journey  be  a  plaguy  long 
one,  and  if  so,  never  ride  your  horse  more  than  five  and  thirty 
miles  a  day,  always,  however,  seeing  him  well  fed,  and  taking  more 
care  of  him  than  yourself;  which  is  but  right  and  reasonable, 
seeing  as  how  the  horse  is  the  best  animal  of  the  two." 

"When  you  are  a  gentleman,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "the 
first  thing  you  must  think  about  is  to  provide  yourself  with  a  good 
horse  for  your  own  particular  riding ;  you  will  perhaps  keep  a 
coach  and  pair,  but  they  will  be  less  your  own  than  your  lady's, 
should  you  have  one,  and  your  young  gentry,  should  you  have 
any ;  or,  if  you  have  neither,  for  madam,  your  housekeeper,  and 
the  upper  female  servants ;  so  you  need  trouble  your  head  less 
about  them,  though,  of  course,  you  would  not  like  to  pay  away 
your  money  for  screws  ;  but  be  sure  you  get  a  good  horse  for 
your  own  riding ;  and  that  you  may  have  a  good  chance  of  having 
a  good  one,  buy  one  that's  young  and  has  plenty  of  belly — a  little 
more  that  the  one  has  which  you  now  have,  though  you  are  not 
yet  a  gentleman ;  you  will,  of  course,  Jook  to  his  head,  his  withers, 
legs  and  other  points,  but  never  buy" a  horse  at  any  price  that  has 


148  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

not  plenty  of  belly ;  no  horse  that  has  not  belly  is  ever  a  good 
feeder,  and  a  horse  that  a'n't  a  good  feeder,  can't  be  a  good 
horse ;  never  buy  a  horse  that  is  drawn  up  in  the  belly  behind ; 
a  horse  of  that  description  can't  feed,  and  can  never  carry  sixteen 
stone. 

"  So  when  you  have  got  such  a  horse  be  proud  of  it — as  I 
daresay  you  are  of  the  one  you  have  now — and  wherever  you  go 
swear  there  a'n't  another  to  match  it  in  the  country,  and  if  any- 
body gives  you  the  lie,  take  him  by  the  nose  and  tweak  it  off,  just 
as  you  would  do  if  anybody  were  to  speak  ill  of  your  lady,  or,  for 
want  of  her,  of  your  housekeeper.  Take  care  of  your  horse,  as 
you  would  of  the  apple  of  your  eye — I  am  sure  I  would  if  I  were 
a  gentleman,  which  I  don't  ever  expect  to  be,  and  hardly  wish, 
seeing  as  how  I  am  sixty-nine,  and  am  rather  too  old  to  ride — yes, 
cherish  and  take  care  of  your  horse  as  perhaps  the  best  friend  you 
have  in  the  world  ;  for,  after  all,  who  will  carry  you  through  thick 
and  thin  as  your  horse  will  ?  not  your  gentlemen  friends,  I  warrant, 
nor  your  housekeeper,  nor  your  upper  servants,  male  or  female ; 
perhaps  your  lady  would,  that  is,  if  she  is  a  whopper,  and  one  of 
the  right  sort ;  the  others  would  be  more  likely  to  take  up  mud  and 
pelt  you  with  it,  provided  they  saw  you  in  trouble,  than  to  help  you. 
So  take  care  of  your  horse,  and  feed  him  every  day  with  your  own 
hands ;  give  him  three-quarters  of  a  peck  of  corn  each  day,  mixed 
up  with  a  little  hay-chaff,  and  allow  him  besides  one  hundred- 
weight of  hay  in  the  course  of  a  week ;  some  say  that  the  hay 
should  be  hardland  hay,  because  it  is  wholesomest,  but  I  say,  let 
it  be  clover  hay,  because  the  horse  likes  it  best ;  give  him  through 
summer  and  winter,  once  a  week,  a  pailful  of  bran  mash,  cold  in 
summer  and  in  winter  hot ;  ride  him  gently  about  the  neighbour- 
hood every  day,  by  which  means  you  will  give  exercise  to  yourself 
and  horse,  and,  moreover,  have  the  satisfaction  of  exhibiting  your 
self  and  your  horse  to  advantage,  and  hearing,  perhaps,  the  men 
say  what  a  fine  horse,  and  the  ladies  saying  what  a  fine  man  :  never 
let  your  groom  mount  your  horse,  as  it  is  ten  to  one,  if  you  do, 
your  groom  will  be  wishing  to  show  off  before  company,  and  will 
fling  your  horse  down.  I  was  groom  to  a  gemman  before  I 
went  to  the  inn  at  Hounslow,  and  flung  him  a  horse  down  worth 
ninety  guineas,  by  endeavouring  to  show  off  before  some  ladies 
that  I  met  on  the  road.  Turn  your  horse  out  to  grass  throughout 
May  and  the  first  part  of  June,  for  then  the  grass  is  sweetest, 
and  the  flies  don't  sting  so  bad  as  they  do  later  in  summer ; 
afterwards  merely  turn  him  out  occasionally  in  the  swale  of  the 
morn  and  the  evening  ;  after  September  the  grass  is  good  for 


1825.]  ABOUT  'ORSES.  149 

little,  lash  and  sour  at  best ;  every  horse  should  go  out  to  grass, 
if  not  his  blood  becomes  full  of  greasy  humours,  and  his  wind 
is  apt  to  become  affected,  but  he  ought  to  be  kept  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  heat  and  flies,  always  got  up  at  night,  and  never 
turned  out  late  in  the  year — Lord  !  if  I  had  always  such  a  nice 
attentive  person  to  listen  to  me  as  you  are,  I  could  go  on  talking 
about  'orses  to  the  end  of  time." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


I  LIVED  on  very  good  terms,  not  only  with  the  master  and  the  old 
ostler,  but  with  all  the  domestics  and  hangers  on  at  the  inn, 
waiters,  chambermaids,  cooks  and  scullions,  not  forgetting  the 
"  boots,"  of  which  there  were  three.  As  for  the  postillions,  I  was 
sworn  brother  with  them  all,  and  some  of  them  went  so  far  as  to 
swear  that  I  was  the  best  fellow  in  the  world ;  for  which  high 
opinion  entertained  by  them  of  me,  I  believe  I  was  principally 
indebted  to  the  good  account  their  comrade  gave  of  me,  whom  I 
had  so  hospitably  received  in  the  dingle.  I  repeat  that  I  lived  on 
good  terms  with  all  the  people  connected  with  the  inn,  and  was 
noticed  and  spoken  kindly  to  by  some  of  the  guests— especially 
by  that  class  termed  commercial  travellers — all  of  whom  were 
great  friends  and  patronisers  of  the  landlord,  and  were  the  princi- 
pal promoters  of  the  dinner,  and  subscribers  to  the  gift  of  plate, 
which  I  have  already  spoken  of,  the  whole  fraternity  striking  me 
as  the  jolliest  set  of  fellows  imaginable,  the  best  customers  to  an 
inn,  and  the  most  liberal  to  servants ;  there  was  one  description 
of  persons,  however,  frequenting  the  inn,  which  I  did  not  like  at 
all,  and  which  I  did  not  get  on  well  with,  and  these  people  were 
the  stage-coachmen. 

The  stage-coachmen  of  England,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  considered  themselves  mighty  fine  gentry,  nay,  I  verily 
believe  the  most  important  personages  of  the  realm,  and  their 
entertaining  this  high  opinion  of  themselves  can  scarcely  be 
wondered  at ;  they  were  low  fellows,  but  masters  at  driving ; 
driving  was  in  fashion,  and  sprigs  of  nobility  used  to  dress  as 
coachmen  and  imitate  the  slang  and  behaviour  of  coachmen, 
from  whom  occasionally  they  would  take  lessons  in  driving  as 
they  sat  beside  them  on  the  box,  which  post  of  honour  any  sprig 
of  nobility  who  happened  to  take  a  place  on  a  coach  claimed  as  his 
unquestionable  right ;  and  then  these  sprigs  would  smoke  cigars 
and  drink  sherry  with  the  coachmen  in  bar-rooms,  and  on  the 
road;  and,  when  bidding  them  farewell,  would  give  them  a  guinea 
or  a  half-guinea,  and  shake  them  by  the  hand,  so  that  these  fellows, 
being  low  fellows,  very  naturally  thought  no  small  liquor  of  them- 


I825-]  STAGE  COACHMEN.  151 

selves,  but  would  talk  familiarly  of  their  friends  lords  so  and  so, 
the  honourable  misters  so  and  so,  and  Sir  Harry  and  Sir  Charles, 
and  be  wonderfully  saucy  to  any  one  who  was  not  a  lord,  or 
something  of  the  kind ;  and  this  high  opinion  of  themselves 
received  daily  augmentation  from  the  servile  homage  paid  them 
by  the  generality  of  the  untitled  male  passengers,  especially  those 
on  the  fore  part  of  the  coach,  who  used  to  contend  for  the  honoui 
of  sitting  on  the  box  with  the  coachman  when  no  sprig  was  nigh 
to  put  in  his  claim.  Oh  I  what  servile  homage  these  craven 
creatures  did  pay  these  same  coach  fellows,  more  especially  after 
witnessing  this  or  t'other  act  of  brutality  practised  upon  the  weak 
and  unoffending — upon  some  poor  friendless  woman  travelling 
with  but  little  money,  and  perhaps  a  brace  of  hungry  children 
with  her,  or  upon  some  thin  and  half-starved  man  travelling  on 
the  hind  part  of  the  coach  from  London  to  Liverpool  with  only 
eighteen  pence  in  his  pocket  after  his  fare  was  paid,  to  defray  his 
expenses  on  the  road  ;  for  as  the  insolence  of  these  knights  was 
vast,  so  was  their  rapacity  enormous ;  they  had  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  have  crowns  and  half-crowns  rained  upon  them  by 
their  admirers  and  flatterers,  that  they  would  look  at  a  shilling,  for 
which  many  an  honest  labourer  was  happy  to  toil  for  ten  hours 
under  a  broiling  sun,  with  the  utmost  contempt;  would  blow  upon 
it  derisively,  or  fillip  it  into  the  air  before  they  pocketed  it ;  but 
when  nothing  was  given  them,  as  would  occasionally  happen — for 
how  could  they  receive  from  those  who  had  nothing  ?  and  nobody 
was  bound  to  give  them  anything,  as  they  had  certain  wages  from 
their  employers — then  what  a  scene  would  ensue  !  Truly  the 
brutality  and  rapacious  insolence  of  English  coachmen  had 
reached  a  climax ;  it  was  time  that  these  fellows  should  be  dis- 
enchanted, and  the  time — thank  Heaven  ! — was  not  far  distant. 
Let  the  craven  dastards  who  used  to  curry  favour  with  them,  and 
applaud  their  brutality,  lament  their  loss  now  that  they  and  their 
vehicles  have  disappeared  from  the  roads ;  I,  who  have  ever  been 
an  enemy  to  insolence,  cruelty  and  tyranny,  loathe  their  memory, 
and,  what  is  more,  am  not  afraid  to  say  so,  well  aware  of  the 
storm  of  vituperation,  partly  learnt  from  them,  which  I  may  expect 
from  those  who  used  to  fall  down  and  worship  them. 

Amongst  the  coachmen  who  frequented  the  inn  was  one  who 
was  called  "the  bang-up  coachman".  He  drove  to  our  inn,  in 
the  fore  part  of  every  day,  one  of  what  were  called  the  fast  coaches, 
and  afterwards  took  back  the  corresponding  vehicle.  He  stayed 
at  our  house  about  twenty  minutes,  during  which  time  the 
passengers  of  the  coach  which  he  was  to  return  with  dined ;  those 


152  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

at  least  who  were  inclined  for  dinner,  and  could  pay  for  it.  He 
derived  his  sobriquet  of  "  the  bang-up  coachman  "  partly  from 
his  being  dressed  in  the  extremity  of  coach  dandyism,  and  partly 
from  the  peculiar  insolence  of  his  manner,  and  the  unmerciful 
fashion  in  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  lashing  on  the  poor  horses 
committed  to  his  charge.  He  was  a  large,  tall  fellow,  of  about 
thirty,  with  a  face  which,  had  it  not  been  bloated  by  excess,  and 
insolence  and  cruelty  stamped  most  visibly  upon  it,  might  have 
been  called  good-looking.  His  insolence  indeed  was  so  great, 
that  he  was  hated  by  all  the  minor  fry  connected  with  coaches 
along  the  road  upon  which  he  drove,  especially  the  ostlers,  whom 
he  was  continually  abusing  or  finding  fault  with.  Many  was  the 
hearty  curse  which  he  received  when  his  back  was  turned  ;  but 
the  generality  of  people  were  much  afraid  of  him,  for  he  was  a 
swinging,  strong  fellow,  and  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  fighter, 
and  in  one  or  two  instances  had  beaten  in  a  barbarous  manner 
individuals  who  had  quarrelled  with  him. 

I  was  nearly  having  a  fracas  with  this  worthy.  One  day,  after 
he  had  been  drinking  sherry  with  a  sprig,  he  swaggered  into  the 
yard  where  I  happened  to  be  standing ;  just  then  a  waiter  came 
by  carrying  upon  a  tray  part  of  a  splendid  Cheshire  cheese,  with 
a  knife,  plate  and  napkin.  Stopping  the  waiter,  the  coachman 
cut  with  the  knife  a  tolerably  large  lump  out  of  the  very  middle  of 
the  cheese,  stuck  it  on  the  end  of  the  knife,  and  putting  it  to  his 
mouth  nibbled  a  slight  piece  off  it,  and  then,  tossing  the  rest  away 
with  disdain,  flung  the  knife  down  upon  the  tray,  motioning  the. 
waiter  to  proceed;  "I  wish,"  said  I,  "you  may  not  want  before 
you  die  what  you  have  just  flung  away,"  whereupon  the  fellow 
turned  furiously  towards  me  ;  just  then,  however,  his  coach  being 
standing  at  the  door,  there  was  a  cry  for  coachman,  so  that  he 
was  forced  to  depart,  contenting  himself  for  the  present  with 
shaking  his  fist  at  me,  and  threatening  to  serve  me  out  on  the  first 
opportunity;  before,  however,  the  opportunity  occurred  he  himself 
got  served  out  in  a  most  unexpected  manner. 

The  day  after  this  incident  he  drove  his  coach  to  the  inn,  and 
after  having  dismounted  and  received  the  contributions  of  the 
generality  of  the  passengers,  he  strutted  up,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  to  an  individual  who  had  come  with  him,  and  who  had 
just  asked  me  a  question  with  respect  to  the  direction  of  a  village 
about  three  miles  off,  to  which  he  was  going.  "  Remember  the 
coachman,"  said  the  knight  of  the  box  to  this  individual,  who  was 
a  ihin  person  of  about  sixty,  with  a  white  hat,  rather  shabby  black 
coat,  and  buff-coloured  trousers,  and  who  held  an  umbrella,  and 


A  BULLY.  153 


a  small  bundle  in  his  hand.  "  If  you  expect  me  to  give  you 
anything,"  said  he  to  the  coachman,  "you  are  mistaken;  I  will 
give  you  nothing.  You  have  been  very  insolent  to  me  as  I  rode 
behind  you  on  the  coach,  and  have  encouraged  two  or  three 
trumpery  fellows,  who  rode  along  with  you,  to  cut  scurvy  jokes  at 
my  expense,  and  now  you  come  to  me  for  money  ;  I  am  not  so 
poor  but  I  could  have  given  you  a  shilling  had  you  been  civil  ;  as 
it  is,  I  will  give  you  nothing."  "  Oh  !  you  won't,  won't  you  ?  " 
said  the  coachman  ;  "  dear  me  !  I  hope  I  shan't  starve  because 
you  won't  give  me  anything  —  a  shilling  !  why,  I  could  afford  to 
give  you  twenty  if  I  thought  fit,  you  pauper  !  civil  to  you,  indeed  ! 
things  are  come  to  a  fine  pass  if  I  need  be  civil  to  you  !  Do  you 
know  who  you  are  speaking  to  ?  why,  the  best  lords  in  the  country 
are  proud  to  speak  to  me.  Why,  it  was  only  the  other  day  that 
the  Marquis  of  --  said  to  me  -  "  and  then  he  went  on  to  say 
what  the  Marquis  said  to  him  ;  after  which,  flinging  down  his  cigar, 
he  strutted  up  the  road,  swearing  to  himself  about  paupers. 

"  You  say  it  is  three  miles  to  -  ,"  said  the  individual  to  me  ; 
"  I  think  I  shall  light  my  pipe,  and  smoke  it  as  I  go  along." 
Thereupon  he  took  out  from  a  side-pocket  a  tobacco-box  and  short 
meerschaum  pipe,  and  implements  for  striking  a  light,  filled  his 
pipe,  lighted  it,  and  commenced  smoking.  Presently  the  coach- 
man drew  near.  I  saw  at  once  there  was  mischief  in  his  eye  ;  the 
man  smoking  was  standing  with  his  back  towards  him,  and  he 
came  so  nigh  to  him,  seemingly  purposely,  that  as  he  passed  a 
puff  of  smoke  came  of  necessity  against  his  face.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  smoking  in  my  face  ?  "  said  he,  striking  the  pipe  of  the 
elderly  individual  out  of  his  mouth.  The  other,  without  mani- 
festing much  surprise,  said  :  "  I  thank  you  ;  if  you  will  wait  a 
minute,  I  will  give  you  a  receipt  for  that  favour  "  ;  then  gathering 
up  his  pipe,  and  taking  off  his  coat  and  hat,  he  laid  them  on  a 
stepping-block  which  stood  near,  and  rubbing  his  hands  together, 
he  advanced  towards  the  coachman  in  an  attitude  of  offence, 
holding  his  hands  crossed  very  near  to  his  face.  The  coachman, 
who  probably  expected  anything  but  such  a  movement  from  a 
person  of  the  age  and  appearance  of  the  individual  whom  he  had 
insulted,  stood  for  a  moment  motionless  with  surprise  ;  but,  recol- 
lecting himself,  he  pointed  at  him  derisively  with  his  finger  ;  the 
next  moment,  however,  the  other  was  close  upon  him,  had  struck 
aside  the  extended  hand  with  his  left  fist,  and  given  him  a  severe 
blow  on  the  nose  with  his  right,  which  he  immediately  followed  by 
a  left-hand  blow  in  the  eye  ;  then  drawing  his  body  slightly  back- 
ward, with  the  velocity  of  lightning  he  struck  the  coachman  full 


154  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

in  the  mouth,  and  the  last  blow  was  the  severest  of  all,  for  it  cut 
the  coachman's  lips  nearly  through  ;  blows  so  quickly  and  sharply 
dealt  I  had  never  seen.  The  coachman  reeled  like  a  fir-tree  in  a 
gale,  and  seemed  nearly  unsensed.  "  Ho  !  what's  this  ?  a  fight ! 
a  fight !  "  sounded  from  a  dozen  voices,  and  people  came  running 
from  all  directions  to  see  what  was  going  on.  The  coachman 
coming  somewhat  to  himself,  disencumbered  himself  of  his  coat 
and  hat ;  and,  encouraged  by  two  or  three  of  his  brothers  of  the 
whip,  showed  some  symptoms  of  fighting,  endeavouring  to  close 
with  his  foe,  but  the  attempt  was  vain,  his  foe  was  not  to  be  closed 
with  ;  he  did  not  shift  or  dodge  about,  but  warded  off  the  blows  of 
his  opponent  with  the  greatest  sang-froid,  always  using  the  guard 
which  I  have  already  described,  and  putting  in,  in  return,  short, 
chopping  blows  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning.  In  a  very  fewminutes 
the  countenance  of  the  coachman  was  literally  cut  to  pieces,  and 
several  of  his  teeth  were  dislodged ;  at  length  he  gave  in  ;  stung 
with  mortification,  however,  he  repented,  and  asked  for  another 
round  ;  it  was  granted,  to  his  own  complete  demolition.  The 
coachman  did  not  drive  his  coach  back  that  day,  he  did  not 
appear  on  the  box  again  for  a  week ;  but  he  never  held  up  his 
head  afterwards.  Before  I  quitted  the  inn,  he  had  disappeared  from 
the  road,  going  no  one  knew  where. 

The  coachman,  as  I  have  said  before,  was  very  much  disliked 
upon  the  road,  but  there  was  an  esprit  (*c  corps  amongst  the 
coachmen,  and  those  who  stood  by  did  not  like  to  see  their 
brother  chastised  in  such  tremendous  fashion.  "  I  never  saw  such 
a  fight  before,"  said  one.  "  Fight !  why,  I  don't  call  it  a  fight  at 
all ;  this  chap  here  ha'n't  got  a  scratch,  whereas  Tom  is  cut  to 
pieces  ;  it  is  all  along  of  that  guard  of  his ;  if  Tom  could  have 
got  within  his  guard  he  would  have  soon  served  the  old  chap  out." 
"  So  he  would,"  said  another ;  "  it  was  all  owing  to  that  guard. 
However,  I  think  I  see  into  it,  and  it  I  had  not  to  drive  this 
afternoon,  I  would  have  a  turn  with  the  old  fellow  and  soon  serve 
him  out."  "  I  will  fight  him  now  for  a  guinea,"  said  the  other 
coachman,  half  taking  off  his  coat ;  observing,  however,  that  the 
elderly  individual  made  a  motion  towards  him,  he  hitched  it  upon 
his  shoulder  again,  and  added,  "  that  is,  if  he  had  not  been  fight- 
ing already,  but  as  it  is,  I  am  above  taking  an  advantage,  especially 
of  such  a  poor  old  creature  as  that."  And  when  he  had  said  this, 
he  looked  around  him,  and  there  was  a  feeble  titter  of  approbation 
from  two  or  three  of  the  craven  crew,  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
currying  favour  with  the  coachmen.  The  elderly  individual 
looked  for  a  moment  at  these  last,  and  then  said :  "  To  such  fellows 


1825.]  BROUGHTOWS  GUARD.  155 

as  you  I  have  nothing  to  say  " ;  then  turning  to  the  coachmen, 
"  and  as  for  you,"  he  said,  "  ye  cowardly  bullies,  I  have  but  one 
word,  which  is,  that  your  reign  upon  the  roads  is  nearly  over,  and 
that  a  time  is  coming  when  ye  will  no  longer  be  wanted  or  employed 
in  your  present  capacity,  when  ye  will  either  have  to  drive  dung- 
carts,  assist  as  ostlers  at  village  ale-houses,  or  rot  in  the  workhouse." 
Then  putting  on  his  coat  and  hat,  and  taking  up  his  bundle,  not 
forgetting  his  meerschaum,  and  the  rest  of  his  smoking  apparatus, 
he  departed  on  his  way.  Filled  with  curiosity,  I  followed  him. 

"  I  am  quite  astonished  that  you  should  be  able  to  use  your 
hands  in  the  way  you  have  done,"  said  I,  as  I  walked  with  this 
individual  in  the  direction  in  which  he  was  bound. 

"  I  will  tell  you  how  I  became  able  to  do  so,"  said  the  elderly 
individual,  proceeding  to  fill  and  light  his  pipe  as  he  walked  along. 
"  My  father  was  a  journeyman  engraver,  who  lived  in  a  very 
riotous  neighbourhood  in  the  outskirts  of  London.  Wishing  to 
give  me  something  of  an  education,  he  sent  me  to  a  day-school,  two 
or  three  streets  distant  from  where  we  lived,  and  there,  being 
rather  a  puny  boy,  I  suffered  much  persecution  from  my  school- 
fellows, who  were  a  very  blackguard  set.  One  day,  as  I  was 
running  home,  with  one  of  my  tormentors  pursuing  me,  old 
Sergeant  Broughton,  the  retired  fighting-man,  seized  me  by  the 
arm " 

"Dear  me,"  said  I,  has  it  ever  been  your  luck  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  Sergeant  Broughton?" 

'  You  may  well  call  it  luck,"  said  the  elder  individual ;  but  for  him 
I  should  never  have  been  able  to  make  my  way  through  the  world. 
He  lived  only  four  doors  from  our  house ;  so,  as  I  was  running 
along  the  street,  with  my  tyrant  behind  me,  Sergeant  Broughton 
seized  me  by  the  arm.  *  Stop,  my  boy,'  said  he,  *  I  have  frequently 
seen  that  scamp  ill-treating  you ;  now  I  will  teach  you  how  to 
send  him  home  with  a  bloody  nose ;  down  with  your  bag  of  books  ; 
and  now,  my  game  chick,'  whispered  he  to  me,  placing  himself 
between  me  and  my  adversary,  so  that  he  could  not  observe  his 
motions,  '  clench  your  fist  in  this  manner,  and  hold  your  arms  in 
this,  and  when  he  strikes  at  you,  move  them  as  I  now  show  you, 
and  he  can't  hurt  you ;  now,  don't  be  afraid,  but  go  at  him  '.  I 
confess  that  I  was  somewhat  afraid,  but  I  considered  myself  in 
some  degree  under  the  protection  of  the  famous  Sergeant,  and, 
clenching  my  fist,  I  went  at  my  foe,  using  the  guard  which  my 
ally  recommended.  The  result  corresponded  to  a  certain  degree 
with  the  predictions  of  the  Sergeant ;  I  gave  my  foe  a  bloody  nose 
and  a  black  eye,  though,  notwithstanding  my  recent  lesson  in  the 


156  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

art  of  self-defence,  he  contrived  to  give  me  two  or  three  clumsy 
blows.  From  that  moment  I  was  the  especial  favourite  of  the  Ser- 
geant, who  gave  me  further  lessons,  so  that  in  a  little  time  I 
became  a  very  fair  boxer,  beating  everybody  of  my  own  size  who 
attacked  me.  The  old  gentleman,  however,  made  me  promise 
never  to  be  quarrelsome,  nor  to  turn  his  instructions  to  account, 
except  in  self-defence.  I  have  always  borne  in  mind  my  promise, 
and  have  made  it  a  point  of  conscience  never  to  fight  unless 
absolutely  compelled.  Folks  may  rail  against  boxing  if  they 
please,  but  being  able  to  box  may  sometimes  stand  a  quiet  man 
in  good  stead.  How  should  I  have  fared  to-day,  but  for  the 
instructions  of  Sergeant  Broughton  ?  But  for  them,  the  brutal 
ruffian  who  insulted  me  must  have  passed  unpunished.  He  will 
not  soon  forget  the  lesson  which  I  have  just  given  him — the  only 
lesson  he  could  understand.  What  would  have  been  the  use 
of  reasoning  with  a  fellow  of  that  description?  Brave  old 
Broughton  1  I  owe  him  much." 

"And  your  manner  of  fighting,"  said  I,  "was  the  manner 
employed  by  Sergeant  Broughton  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  my  new  acquaintance;  "it  was  the  manner  in 
which  he  beat  every  one  who  attempted  to  contend  with  him,  till, 
in  an  evil  hour,  he  entered  the  ring  with  Slack,  without  any  training 
or  preparation,  and  by  a  chance  blow  lost  the  battle  to  a  man  who 
had  been  beaten  with  ease  by  those  who,  in  the  hands  of  Brough- 
ton, appeared  like  so  many  children.  It  was  the  way  of  fighting 
of  him  who  first  taught  Englishmen  to  box  scientifically,  who  was 
the  head  and  father  of  the  fighters  of  what  is  now  called  the  old 
school,  the  last  of  which  were  Johnson  and  Big  Ben." 

"  A  wonderful  man,  that  Big  Ben,"  said  I. 

"  He  was  so,"  said  the  elderly  individual ;  "  but  had  it  not 
been  for  Broughton,  I  question  whether  Ben  would  have  ever  been 
the  fighter  he  was.  Oh  !  there  was  no  one  like  old  Broughton  ; 
but  for  him  I  should  at  the  present  moment  be  sneaking  along 
the  road,  pursued  by  the  hissings  and  hootings  of  the  dirty 
flatterers  of  that  blackguard  coachman." 

"  What  did  you  mean,"  said  I,  "  by  those  words  of  yours,  that 
the  coachmen  would  speedily  disappear  from  the  roads  ?  " 

"  I  meant,"  said  he,  "  that  a  new  method  of  travelling  is  about 
to  be  established,  which  will  supersede  the  old.  I  am  a  poor 
engraver,  as  my  father  was  before  me ;  but  engraving  is  an 
intellectual  trade,  and  by  following  it  I  have  been  brought  in 
contact  with  some  of  the  cleverest  men  in  England.  It  has  even 
made  me  acquainted  with  the  projector  of  the  scheme,  which  he 


1825.]  THE  BRAZEN  HEAD.  157 

has  told  me  many  of  the  wisest  heads  of  England  have  been 
dreaming  of  during  a  period  of  six  hundred  years,  and  which  it 
seems  was  alluded  to  by  a  certain  Brazen  Head  in  the  story-book 
of  Friar  Bacon,  who  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  a  wizard, 
but  in  reality  was  a  great  philosopher.  Young  man,  in  less  than 
twenty  years,  by  which  time  I  shall  be  dead  and  gone,  England 
will  be  surrounded  with  roads  of  metal,  on  which  armies  may 
travel  with  mighty  velocity,  and  of  which  the  walls  of  brass  and 
iron  by  which  the  friar  proposed  to  defend  his  native  land  are 
types."  He  then,  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  proceeded  on  his 
way,  whilst  I  returned  to  the  inn. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  circumstance  which  I  have  .last  commemor- 
ated, it  chanced  that,  as  I  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  inn, 
one  of  the  numerous  stage-coaches  which  were  in  the  habit  of 
stopping  there,  drove  up,  and  several  passengers  got  down.  I 
had  assisted  a  woman  with  a  couple  of  children  to  dismount,  and 
had  just  delivered  to  her  a  band-box,  which  appeared  to  be  her 
only  property,  which  she  had  begged  me  to  fetch  down  from  the 
roof,  when  I  felt  a  hand  laid  upon  my  shoulder,  and  heard  a  voice 
exclaim  :  "  Is  it  possible,  old  fellow,  that  I  find  you  in  this  place  ?" 
I  turned  round,  and,  wrapped  in  a  large  blue  cloak,  I  beheld  my 
good  friend  Francis  Ardry.  I  shook  him  most  warmly  by  the 
hand,  and  said :  "  If  you  are  surprised  to  see  me,  I  am  no  less  so 
to  see  you  ;  where  are  you  bound  to  ?  " 

"  I  am  bound  for  L ;  at  any  rate,  I  am  booked  for  that 

sea-port,"  said  my  friend  in  reply. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  I,  "  for  in  that  case  we  shall  have  to 
part  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  coach  by  which  you  came 
stopping  no  longer." 

"  And  whither  are  you  bound  ?  "  demanded  my  friend. 
"  I  am  stopping  at  present  in  this  house,  quite  undetermined  as 
to  what  to  do." 

"Then  come  along  with  me,"  said  Francis  Ardry. 

"  That  I  can  scarcely  do,"  said  I ;  "  I  have  a  horse  in  the 

stall  which  I  cannot  afford  to  ruin  by  racing  to  L by  the  side 

of  your  coach." 

My  friend    mused   for    a  moment :    "  I  have   no  particular 

business  at  L ,"  said  he ;  "  I  was  merely  going  thither  to  pass 

a  day  or  two,  till  an  affair,  in  which  I  am  deeply  interested,  at 

C shall  come  off.     I  think  I  shall  stay  with  you  for  four-and- 

twenty  hours  as  least ;  I  have  been  rather  melancholy  of  late,  and 
cannot  afford  to  part  with  a  friend  like  you  at  the  present  moment ; 
it  is  an  unexpected  piece  of  good  fortune  to  have  met  you ;  and  I 
have  not  been  very  fortunate  of  late,"  he  added,  sighing. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  once  more,  whether 
fortunate  or  not ;  where  is  your  baggage  ?" 


1825.]  FRANCIS  ARDRY.  159 

"Yon  trunk  is  mine,"  said  Francis,  pointing  to  a  trunk  of 
black  Russian  leather  upon  the  coach. 

"  We  will  soon  have  it  down/'  said  I  ;  and  at  a  word  which  I 
gave  to  one  of  the  hangers-on  of  the  inn,  the  trunk  was  taken  from 
the  top  of  the  coach.  "  Now,"  said  I  to  Francis  Ardry,  "  follow 
me,  I  am  a  person  of  some  authority  in  this  house  ; "  thereupon  I 
led  Francis  Ardry  into  the  house,  and  a  word  which  I  said  to  a 
waiter  forthwith  installed  Francis  Ardry  in  a  comfortable  private 
sitting-room,  and  his  trunk  in  the  very  best  sleeping-room  of  our 
extensive  establishment. 

It  was  now  about  one  o'clock  :  Francis  Ardry  ordered  dinner 
for  two,  to  be  ready  at  four,  and  a  pint  of  sherry  to  be  brought 
forthwith,  which  I  requested  my  friend  the  waiter  might  be  the 
very  best,  and  which  in  effect  turned  out  as  I  requested ;  we  sat 
down,  and  when  we  had  drunk  to  each  other's  health,  Frank  re- 
quested me  to  make  known  to  him  how  I  had  contrived  to  free 
myself  from  my  embarrassments  in  London,  what  I  had  been  about 
since  I  quitted  that  city,  and  the  present  posture  of  my  affairs. 

I  related  to  Francis  Ardry  how  I  had  composed  the  Life  of 
Joseph  Sell,  and  how  the  sale  of  it  to  the  bookseller  had  enabled 
me  to  quit  London  with  money  in  my  pocket,  which  had  supported 
me  during  a  long  course  of  ramble  in  the  country,  into  the 
particulars  of  which  I,  however,  did  not  enter  with  any  consider- 
able degree  of  fulness.  I  summed  up  my  account  by  saying  that 
"  I  was  at  present  a  kind  of  overlooker  in  the  stables  of  the  inn, 
had  still  some  pounds  in  my  purse,  and,  moreover,  a  capital  horse 
in  the  stall." 

"  No  very  agreeable  posture  of  affairs,"  said  Francis  Ardry, 
looking  rather  seriously  at  me. 

"  I  make  no  complaints,"  said  I ;  "  my  prospects  are  not  very 
bright,  it  is  true,  but  sometimes  I  have  visions  both  waking  and 
sleeping,  which,  though  always  strange,  are  invariably  agreeable. 
Last  night,  in  my  chamber  near  the  hayloft,  I  dreamt  that  I  had 
passed  over  an  almost  interminable  wilderness — an  enormous  wall 
rose  before  me,  the  wall,  methought,  was  the  great  wall  of  China  : 
strange  figures  appeared  to  be  beckoning  to  me  from  the  top  of  the 
wall ;  such  visions  are  not  exactly  to  be  sneered  at.  Not  that  such 
phantasmagoria,"  said  I,  raising  my  voice,  "  are  to  be  compared 
for  a  moment  with  such  desirable  things  as  fashion,  fine  clothes, 
cheques  from  uncles,  parliamentary  interest,  the  love  of  splendid 
females.  Ah  !  woman's  love,"  said  I,  and  sighed. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  fellow?"  said  Francis  Ardry. 

"There  is  nothing  like  it,"  said  T, 


160  THE  ROMANY  RYB.  [1825. 

"  Like  what?" 

"  Love,  divine  love,"  said  I. 

"  Confound  love,"  said  Francis  Ardry,  "  I  hate  the  very  name ; 
I  have  made  myself  a  pretty  fool  by  it,  but  trust  me  for  ever  being 
caught  at  such  folly  again.  In  an  evil  hour  I  abandoned  my 
former  pursuits  and  amusements  for  it ;  in  one  morning  spent  at 
Joey's  there  was  more  real  pleasure  than  in " 

" Surely,"  said  I,  "you  are  not  hankering  after  dog-fighting 
again,  a  sport  which  none  but  the  gross  and  unrefined  care  any- 
thing for  ?  No,  one's  thoughts  should  be  occupied  by  something 
higher  and  more  rational  than  dog-fighting ;  and  what  better  than 
love — divine  love  ?  Oh,  there's  nothing  like  it ! " 

"  Pray,  don't  talk  nonsense,"  said  Francis  Ardry. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  I ;  "  why  I  was  repeating,  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  what  I  heard  you  say  on  a  former  occasion." 

"  If  ever  I  talked  such  stuff,"  said  Francis  Ardry,  "  I  was  a 
fool ;  and  indeed  I  cannot  deny  that  I  have  been  one :  no,  there's 
no  denying  that  I  have  been  a  fool.  What  do  you  think  ?  that 
false  Annette  has  cruelly  abandoned  me." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "perhaps  you  have  yourself  to  thank  for  her 
having  done  so  ;  did  you  never  treat  her  with  coldness,  and  repay 
her  marks  of  affectionate  interest  with  strange  fits  of  eccentric 
humour  ?" 

"  Lord  !  how  little  you  know  of  women,"  said  Francis  Ardry  ; 
"  had  I  done  as  you  suppose,  I  should  probably  have  possessed 
her  at  the  present  moment.  I  treated  her  in  a  manner  diametri- 
cally opposite  to  that.  I  loaded  her  with  presents,  was  always 
most  assiduous  to  her,  always  at  her  feet,  as  I  may  say,  yet  she 
nevertheless  abandoned  me — and  for  whom  ?  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  say — for  a  fiddler." 

I  took  a  glass  of  wine,  Francis  Ardry  followed  my  example, 
and  then  proceeded  to  detail  to  me  the  treatment  which  he  had 
experienced  from  Annette,  and  from  what  he  said,  it  appeared 
that  her  conduct  to  him  had  been  in  the  highest  degree  reprehen- 
sible ;  notwithstanding  he  had  indulged  her  in  everything,  she  was 
never  civil  to  him,  but  loaded  him  continually  with  taunts  and 
insults,  and  had  finally,  on  his  being  unable  to  supply  her  with 
a  sum  of  money  which  she  had  demanded,  decamped  from  the 
lodgings  which  he  had  taken  for  her,  carrying  with  her  all  the 
presents  which  at  various  times  he  had  bestowed  upon  her,  and 
had  put  herself  under  the  protection  of  a  gentleman  who  played 
the  bassoon  at  the  Italian  Opera,  at  which  place  it  appeared  that 
her  sister  had  lately  been  engaged  as  a  danseuse.  My  friend 


1825.]  GOOD  RESOLUTIONS.  161 

informed  me  that  at  first  he  had  experienced  great  agony  at  the 
ingratitude  of  Annette,  but  at  last  had  made  up  his  mind  to  forget 
her,  and,  in  order  more  effectually  to  do  so,  had  left  London  with 
the  intention  of  witnessing  a  fight,  which  was  shortly  coming  off  at 
a  town  in  these  parts,  between  some  dogs  and  a  lion ;  which  combat, 
he  informed  me,  had  for  some  time  past  been  looked  forward  to 
with  intense  eagerness  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  sporting  world. 

I  commended  him  for  his  resolution,  at  the  same  time  advising 
him  not  to  give  up  his  mind  entirely  to  dog-fighting,  as  he  had 
formerly  done,  but,  when  the  present  combat  should  be  over,  to 
return  to  his  rhetorical  studies,  and  above  all  to  marry  some  rich 
and  handsome  lady  on  the  first  opportunity,  as,  with  his  person 
and  expectations,  he  had  only  to  sue  for  the  hand  of  the  daughter 
of  a  marquis  to  be  successful,  telling  him,  with  a  sigh,  that  all 
women  were  not  Annettes,  and  that,  upon  the  whole,  there  was 
nothing  like  them.  To  which  advice  he  answered,  that  he 
intended  to  return  to  rhetoric  as  soon  as  the  lion  fight  should  be 
over,  but  that  he  never  intended  to  marry,  having  had  enough  of 
women ;  adding  that  he  was  glad  he  had  no  sister,  as,  with  the 
feelings  which  he  entertained  with  respect  to  her  sex,  he  should 
be  unable  to  treat  her  with  common  affection,  and  concluded  by 
repeating  a  proverb  which  he  had  learnt  from  an  Arab  whom  he 
had  met  at  Venice,  to  the  effect,  that,  "  one  who  has  been  stung 
by  a  snake,  shivers  at  the  sight  of  a  string  ". 

After  a  little  more  conversation,  we  strolled  to  the  stable,  where 
my  horse  was  standing;  my  friend,  who  was  a  connoisseur  in 
horse-flesh,  surveyed  the  animal  with  attention,  and  after  inquiring 
where  and  how  I  had  obtained  him,  asked  what  I  intended  to  do 
with  him  ;  on  my  telling  him  that  I  was  undetermined,  and  that 
I  was  afraid  the  horse  was  likely  to  prove  a  burden  to  me,  he  said  : 
"  It  is  a  noble  animal,  and  if  you  mind  what  you  are  about,  you 
may  make  a  small  fortune  by  him.  I  do  not  want  such  an  animal 
myself,  nor  do  I  know  any  one  who  does ;  but  a  great  horse-fair 
will  be  held  shortly  at  a  place  where,  it  is  true,  I  have  never  been, 
but  of  which  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  from  my  acquaintances, 
where  it  is  said  a  first-rate  horse  is  always  sure  to  fetch  its  value ; 
that  place  is  Horncastle,  in  Lincolnshire,  you  should  take  him 
thither." 

Francis  Ardry  and  myself  dined  together,  and  after  dinner 
partook  of  a  bottle  of  the  best  port  which  the  inn  afforded.  After 
a  few  glasses,  we  had  a  great  deal  of  conversation ;  I  again  brought 
the  subject  of  marriage  and  love,  divine  love,  upon  the  carpet,  but 
Francis  almost  immediately  begged  me  to  drop  it ;  and  on  my 

ii 


i6a  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1815. 

having  the  delicacy  to  comply,  he  reverted  to  dog-fighting,  on  which 
he  talked  well  and  learnedly ;  amongst  other  things,  he  said  that 
it  was  a  princely  sport  of  great  antiquity,  and  quoted  from  Quintus 
Curtius  to  prove  that  the  princes  of  India  must  have  been  of  the 
fancy,  they  having,  according  to  that  author,  treated  Alexander  to 
a  fight  between  certain  dogs  and  a  lion.  Becoming,  notwithstand- 
ing my  friend's  eloquence  and  learning,  somewhat  tired  of  the 
subject,  I  began  to  talk  about  Alexander.  Francis  Ardry  said  he 
was  one  of  the  two  great  men  whom  the  world  has  produced,  the 
other  being  Napoleon ;  I  replied  that  I  believed  Tamerlane  was 
a  greater  man  than  either ;  but  Francis  Ardry  knew  nothing  of 
Tamerlane,  save  what  he  had  gathered  from  the  play  of  Timour 
the  Tartar.  "  No,"  said  he,  "Alexander  and  Napoleon  are  the 
great  men  of  the  world,  their  names  are  known  everywhere. 
Alexander  has  been  dead  upwards  of  two  thousand  years,  but  the 
very  English  bumpkins  sometimes  christen  their  boys  by  the  name 
of  Alexander — can  there  be  a  greater  evidence  of  his  greatness  ? 
As  for  Napoleon,  there  are  some  parts  of  India  in  which  his  bust 
is  worshipped."  Wishing  to  make  up  a  triumvirate,  I  mentioned 
the  name  of  Wellington,  to  which  Francis  Ardry  merely  said, 
"  bah  !  "  and  resumed  the  subject  of  dog-fighting. 

Francis  Ardry  remained  at  the  inn  during  that  day  and  the 
next,  and  then  departed  to  the  dog  and  lion  fight ;  I  never  saw 
him  afterwards,  and  merely  heard  of  him  once  after  a  lapse  of 
some  years,  and  what  I  then  heard  was  not  exactly  what  I  could 
have  wished  to  hear.  He  did  not  make  much  of  the  advantages 
which  he  possessed — a  pity,  for  how  great  were  those  advantages — 
person,  intellect,  eloquence,  connection,  riches  !  yet,  with  all  these 
advantages,  one  thing  highly  needful  seems  to  have  been  wanting 
in  Francis.  A  desire,  a  craving,  to  perform  something  great  and 
good.  Oh  !  what  a  vast  deal  may  be  done  with  intellect,  courage, 
riches,  accompanied  by  the  desire  of  doing  something  great  and 
good  !  Why,  a  person  may  carry  the  blessings  of  civilisation  and 
religion  to  barbarous,  yet  at  the  same  time  beautiful  and  romantic, 
lands  ;  and  what  a  triumph  there  is  for  him  who  does  so !  what 
a  crown  of  glory !  Of  far  greater  value  than  those  surrounding 
the  brows  ot  your  mere  conquerors.  Yet  who  has  done  so  in 
these  times  ?  Not  many ;  not  three,  not  two,  something  seems 
to  have  been  always  wanting ;  there  is,  however,  one  instance,  in 
which  the  various  requisites  have  been  united,  and  the  crown,  the 
most  desirable  in  the  world — at  least  which  I  consider  to  be  the 
most  desirable — achieved,  and  only  one,  that  of  Brooke  of 
Borneo. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


IT  never  rains  but  it  pours.  I  was  destined  to  see  at  this  inn 
more  acquaintances  than  one.  On  the  day  of  Francis  Ardry's 
departure,  shortly  after  he  had  taken  leave  of  me,  as  I  was  stand- 
ing in  the  corn-chamber,  at  a  kind  of  writing-table  or  desk, 
fastened  to  the  wall,  with  a  book  before  me,  in  which  I  was 
making  out  an  account  of  the  corn  and  hay  lately  received  and 
distributed,  my  friend  the  postillion  came  running  in  out  ot 
breath.  "  Here  they  both  are,"  he  gasped  out;  "pray  do  come 
and  look  at  them." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  I. 

"Why,  that  red-haired  Jack  Priest,  and  that  idiotic  parson, 
Platitude ;  they  have  just  been  set  down  by  one  of  the  coaches, 
and  want  a  post-chaise  to  go  across  the  country  in  ;  and  what  do 
you  think  ?  I  am  to  have  the  driving  of  them.  I  have  no  time 
to  lose,  for  I  must  get  myself  ready ;  so  do  come  and  look  at 
them." 

I  hastened  into  the  yard  of  the  inn ;  two  or  three  of  the 
helpers  of  our  establishment  were  employed  in  drawing  forward 
a  post-chaise  out  of  the  chaise-house,  which  occupied  one  side  of 
the  yard,  and  which  was  spacious  enough  to  contain  nearly  twenty 
of  these  vehicles,  though  it  was  never  full,  several  of  them  being 
always  out  upon  the  roads,  as  the  demand  upon  us  for  post-chaises 
across  the  country  was  very  great.  "There  they  are,"  said  the 
postillion,  softly,  nodding  toward  two  individuals,  in  one  of  whom 
I  recognised  the  man  in  black,  and  in  the  other  Mr.  Platitude ; 
"  there  they  are  ;  have  a  good  look  at  them,  while  I  go  and  get 
ready."  The  man  in  black  and  Mr.  Platitude  were  walking  up 
and  down  the  yard ;  Mr.  Platitude  was  doing  his  best  to  make 
himself  appear  ridiculous,  talking  very  loudly  in  exceedingly  bad 
Italian,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  notice  of  the 
bystanders,  in  which  he  succeeded,  all  the  stable-boys  and  hangers- 
on  about  the  yard,  attracted  by  his  vociferation,  grinning  at  his 
ridiculous  figure  as  he  limped  up  and  down.  The  man  in  black 
said  little  or  nothing,  but  from  the  glances  which  he  cast  sideways 
appeared  to  be  thoroughly  ashamed  of  his  companion  ;  the  worthy 


164  THE  ROMANY  RYB.  [1815. 

couple  presently  arrived  close  to  where  I  was  standing,  and  the 
man  in  black,  who  was  nearest  to  me,  perceiving  me,  stood  still 
as  if  hesitating,  but  recovering  himself  in  a  moment,  he  moved  on 
without  taking  any  further  notice.  Mr.  Platitude  exclaimed  as  they 
passed,  in  broken  lingo  :  "  I  hope  we  shall  find  the  holy  doctors  all 
assembled,"  and  as  they  returned,  "  I  make  no  doubt  that  they 
will  all  be  rejoiced  to  see  me  ".  Not  wishing  to  be  standing  an  idle 
gazer,  I  went  to  the  chaise  and  assisted  in  attaching  the  horses, 
which  had  now  been  brought  out,  to  the  pole.  The  postillion 
presently  arrived,  and  finding  all  ready  took  the  reins  and  mounted 
the  box,  whilst  I  very  politely  opened  the  door  for  the  two 
travellers;  Mr.  Platitude  got  in  first,  and,  without  taking  any 
notice  of  me,  seated  himself  on  the  farther  side.  In  got  the  man 
in  black  and  seated  himself  nearest  to  me.  "  All  is  right,"  said  I, 
as  I  shut  the  door,  whereupon  the  postillion  cracked  his  whip,  and 
the  chaise  drove  out  of  the  yard.  Just  as  I  shut  the  door, 
however,  and  just  as  Mr.  Platitude  had  recommenced  talking  in 
jergo,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  the  man  in  black  turned  his  face 
partly  towards  me,  and  gave  me  a  wink  with  his  left  eye. 

I  did  not  see  my  friend  the  postillion  till  the  next  morning, 
when  he  gave  me  an  account  of  the  adventures  he  had  met  with 
on  his  expedition.  It  appeared  that  he  had  driven  the  man  in 
black  and  the  Reverend  Platitude  across  the  country  by  roads 
and  lanes  which  he  had  some  difficulty  in  threading.  At  length, 
when  he  had  reached  a  part  of  the  country  where  he  had 
never  been  before,  the  man  in  black  pointed  out  to  him  a 
house  near  the  corner  of  a  wood,  to  which  he  informed  him 
they  were  bound.  The  postillion  said  it  was  a  strange-look- 
ing house,  with  a  wall  round  it,  and,  upon  the  whole,  bore 
something  of  the  look  of  a  madhouse.  There  was  already  a 
post-chaise  at  the  gate,  from  which  three  individuals  had  alighted 
— one  of  them  the  postillion  said  was  a  mean-looking  scoundrel, 
with  a  regular  petty-larceny  expression  in  his  countenance.  He 
was  dressed  very  much  like  the  man  in  black,  and  the  postillion 
said  that  he  could  almost  have  taken  his  Bible  oath  that  they  were 
both  of  the  same  profession.  The  other  two  he  said  were  parsons, 
he  could  swear  that,  though  he  had  never  seen  them  before  ;  there 
could  be  no  mistake  about  them.  Church  of  England  parsons 
the  postillion  swore  they  were,  with  their  black  coats,  white 
cravats,  and  airs,  in  which  clumsiness  and  conceit  were  most 
funnily  blended — Church  of  England  parsons  of  the  Platitude 
description,  who  had  been  in  Italy,  and  seen  the  Pope,  and  kissed 
his  toe,  and  picked  up  a  little  broken  Italian,  and  come  home 


I825.J  THE  MAN  IN  BLACK  AGAIN.  165 

greater  fools  than  they  went  forth.  It  appeared  that  they  were 
all  acquaintances  of  Mr.  Platitude,  for  when  the  postillion  had 
alighted  and  let  Mr.  Platitude  and  his  companion  out  of  the  chaise, 
Mr.  Platitude  shook  the  whole  three  by  the  hand,  conversed  with 
his  two  brothers  in  a  little  broken  jergo,  and  addressed  the  petty- 
larceny  looking  individual  by  the  title  of  Reverend  Doctor.  In  the 
midst  of  these  greetings,  however,  the  postillion  said  the  man  in 
black  came  up  to  him,  and  proceeded  to  settle  with  him  for  the 
chaise ;  he  had  shaken  hands  with  [nobody,  and  had  merely 
nodded  to  the  others;  "and  now,"  said  the  postillion,  "he 
evidently  wished  to  get  rid  of  me,  fearing,  probably,  that  I  should 
see  too  much  of  the  nonsense  that  was  going  on.  It  was  whilst 
settling  with  me  that  he  seemed  to  recognise  me  for  the  first  time, 
for  he  stared  hard  at  me,  and  at  last  asked  whether  I  had  not 
been  in  Italy ;  to  which  question,  with  a  nod  and  a  laugh,  I  replied 
that  I  had.  I  was  then  going  to  ask  him  about  the  health  of  the 
image  of  Holy  Mary,  and  to  say  that  I  hoped  it  had  recovered 
from  its  horsewhipping ;  but  he  interrupted  me,  paid  me  the  money 
for  the  fare,  and  gave  me  a  crown  for  myself,  saying  he  would 
not  detain  me  any  longer.  I  say,  partner,  I  am  a  poor  postillion, 
but  when  he  gave  me  the  crown  I  had  a  good  mind  to  fling  it  in 
his  face.  I  reflected,  however,  that  it  was  not  mere  gift-money,  but 
coin  which  I  had  earned,  and  hardly  too,  so  I  put  it  in  my  pocket, 
and  I  bethought  me,  moreover,  that,  knave  as  I  knew  him  to  be, 
he  had  always  treated  me  with  civility ;  so  I  nodded  to  him,  and 
he  said  something  which,  perhaps,  he  meant  for  Latin,  but  which 
sounded  very  much  like  '  vails,'  and  by  which  he  doubtless  alluded 
to  the  money  which  he  had  given  me.  He  then  went  into 
the  house  with  the  rest,  the  coach  drove  away  which  had  brought 
the  others,  and  I  was  about  to  get  on  the  box  and  follow ;  observ- 
ing, however,  two  more  chaises  driving  up,  I  thought  I  would  be 
in  no  hurry,  so  I  just  led  my  horses  and  chaise  a  little  out  of  the 
way,  and  pretending  to  be  occupied  about  the  harness,  I  kept 
a  tolerably  sharp  look-out  at  the  new  arrivals.  Well,  partner,  the 
next  vehicle  that  drove  up  was  a  gentleman's  carriage  which  I 
knew  very  well,  as  well  as  those  within  it,  who  were  a  father  and 
son,  the  father  a  good  kind  of  old  gentleman,  and  a  justice  of 
the  peace,  therefore,  not  very  wise,  as  you  may  suppose ;  the  son 
a  puppy  who  has  been  abroad,  where  he  contrived  to  forget  his  own 
language,  though  only  nine  months  absent,  and  now  rules  the 
roast  over  his  father  and  mother,  whose  only  child  he  is,  and  by 
whom  he  is  thought  wondrous  clever.  So  this  foreigneering 
chap  brings  his  poor  old  father  to  this  out-of-the-way  house  to 


166  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

meet  these  Platitudes  and  petty-larceny  villains,  and  perhaps  would 
have  brought  his  mother  too,  only,  simple  thing,  by  good  fortune 
she  happens  to  be  laid  up  with  the  rheumatiz.  Well,  the  father 
and  son,  I  beg  pardon,  I  mean  the  son  and  father,  got  down  and 
went  in,  and  then  after  their  carriage  was  gone,  the  chaise  behind 
drove  up,  in  which  was  a  huge  fat  fellow,  weighing  twenty  stone 
at  least,  but  with  something  of  a  foreign  look,  and  with  him — who 
do  you  think  ?  Why,  a  rascally  Unitarian  minister,  that  is,  a  fellow 
who  had  been  such  a  minister,  but  who,  some  years  ago  leaving 
his  own  people,  who  had  bred  him  up  and  sent  him  to  their 
college  at  York,  went  over  to  the  High  Church,  and  is  now,  I 
suppose,  going  over  to  some  other  Church,  for  he  was  talking 
as  he  got  down,  wondrous  fast  in  Latin,  or  what  sounded  some- 
thing like  Latin,  to  the  fat  fellow,  who  appeared  to  take  things 
wonderfully  easy,  and  merely  grunted  to  the  dog  Latin  which  the 
scoundrel  had  learnt  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  Unitarians  at  York. 
So  they  went  into  the  house,  and  presently  arrived  another  chaise, 
but  ere  I  could  make  any  further  observations,  the  porter  of  the 
out-of-the-way  house  came  up  to  me,  asking  what  I  was  stopping 
there  for?  bidding  me  go  away,  and  not  pry  into  other  people's 
business.  *  Pretty  business,'  said  I  to  him,  '  that  is  being  tran- 
sacted in  a  place  like  this,'  and  then  I  was  going  to  say  something 
uncivil,  but  he  went  to  attend  to  the  new  comers,  and  I  took 
myself  away  on  my  own  business  as  he  bade  me,  not,  however, 
before  observing  that  these  two  last  were  a  couple  of  blackcoats." 
The  postillion  then  proceeded  to  relate  how  he  made  the  best 
of  his  way  to  a  small  public-house,  about  a  mile  off,  where  he  had 
intended  to  bait,  and  how  he  met  on  the  way  a  landau  and  pair, 
belonging  to  a  Scotch  coxcomb  whom  he  had  known  in  London, 
about  whom  he  related  some  curious  particulars,  and  then  con- 
tinued :  "Well,  after  I  had  passed  him  and  his  turn-out,  I  drove 
—straight  to  the  public-house,  where  I  baited  my  horses,  and  where 
I  found  some  of  the  chaises  and  drivers  who  had  driven  the  folks 
to  the  lunatic-looking  mansion,  and  were  now  waiting  to  take 
them  up  again.  Whilst  my  horses  were  eating  their  bait,  I  sat 
me  down,  as  the  weather  was  warm,  at  a  table  outside,  and 
smoked  a  pipe,  and  drank  some  ale,  in  company  with  the  coach- 
man of  the  old  gentleman  who  had  gone  to  the  house  with  his 
son,  and  the  coachman  then  told  me  that  the  house  was  a  Papist 
house,  and  that  the  present  was  a  grand  meeting  of  all  the  fools 
and  rascals  in  the  country,  who  came  to  bow  down  to  images, 
and  to  concert  schemes — pretty  schemes  no  doubt — for  overturn- 
ing the  religion  of  the  country,  and  that  for  his  part  he  did  not 


I825-]  THE  POSTILLION'S  ADVENTURES.  167 

approve  of  being  concerned  with  such  doings,  and  that  he  was 
going  to  give  his  master  warning  next  day.  So,  as  we  were 
drinking  and  discoursing,  up  drove  the  chariot  of  the  Scotchman, 
and  down  got  his  valet  and  the  driver,  and  whilst  the  driver  was 
seeing  after  the  horses,  the  valet  came  and  sat  down  at  the  table 
where  the  gentleman's  coachman  and  I  were  drinking.  I  knew 
the  fellow  well,  a  Scotchman  like  his  master,  and  just  of  the  same 
kidney,  with  white  kid  gloves,  red  hair  frizzled,  a  patch  of  paint 
on  his  face,  and  his  hands  covered  with  rings.  This  very  fellow, 
I  must  tell  you,  was  one  of  those  most  busy  in  endeavouring  to 
get  me  turned  out  of  the  servants'  club  in  Park  Lane,  because  I 
happened  to  serve  a  literary  man ;  so  he  sat  down,  and  in  a  kind 
of  affected  tone  cried  out :  '  Landlord,  bring  me  a  glass  of  cold 
negus'.  The  landlord,  however,  told  him  that  there  was  no 
negus,  but  that  if  he  pleased,  he  could  have  a  jug  of  as  good 
beer  as  any  in  the  country.  '  Confound  the  beer,'  said  the  valet, 
'do  you  think  I  am  accustomed  to  such  vulgar  beverage?' 
However,  as  he  found  there  was  nothing  better  to  be  had,  he  let 
the  man  bring  him  some  beer,  and  when  he  had  got  it,  soon 
showed  that  he  could  drink  it  easily  enough ;  so,  when  he  had 
drunk  two  or  three  draughts,  he  turned  his  eyes  in  a  contemptuous 
manner,  first  on  the  coachman,  and  then  on  me ;  I  saw  the  scamp 
recollected  me,  for  after  staring  at  me  and  my  dress  for  about 
half  a  minute,  he  put  on  a  broad  grin,  and  flinging  his  head  back, 
he  uttered  a  loud  laugh.  Well,  I  did  not  like  this,  as  you  may 
well  believe,  and  taking  the  pipe  out  of  my  mouth,  I  asked  him 
if  he  meant  anything  personal,  to  which  he  answered,  that  he  had 
said  nothing  to  me,  and  that  he  had  a  right  to  look  where  he 
pleased,  and  laugh  when  he  pleased.  Well,  as  to  a  certain 
extent  he  was  right,  as  to  looking  and  laughing,  and  as  I  have 
occasionally  looked  at  a  fool  and  laughed,  though  I  was  not  the 
fool  in  this  instance,  I  put  my  pipe  into  my  mouth  and  said  no 
more.  This  quiet  and  well-regulated  behaviour  of  mine,  how- 
ever the  fellow  interpreted  into  fear ;  so,  after  drinking  a  little 
more,  he  suddenly  started  up,  and  striding  once  or  twice  before 
the  table,  he  asked  me  what  I  meant  by  that  impertinent  question 
of  mine,  saying  that  he  had  a  good  mind  to  wring  my  nose  for 
my  presumption.  'You  have?'  said  I,  getting  up,  and  laying 
down  my  pipe.  *  Well,  I'll  now  give  you  an  opportunity.'  So  I 
put  myself  in  an  attitude,  and  went  up  to  him,  saying :  '  I  have  an 
old  score  to  settle  with  you,  you  scamp ;  you  wanted  to  get  me 
turned  out  of  the  club,  didn't  you  ? '  And  thereupon,  remember- 
ing that  he  had  threatened  to  wring  my  nose,  I  gave  him  a  snorter 


168  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

upon  his  own.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  fellow  when  he 
felt  the  smart ;  so  far  from  trying  to  defend  himself,  he  turned 
round,  and  with  his  hand  to  his  face,  attempted  to  run  away;  but 
I  was  now  in  a  regular  passion,  and  following  him  up,  got  before 
him,  and  was  going  to  pummel  away  at  him,  when  he  burst  into 
tears,  and  begged  me  not  to  hurt  him,  saying  that  he  was  sorry 
if  he  had  offended  me,  and  that,  if  I  pleased,  he  would  go  down 
on  his  knees,  or  do  anything  else  I  wanted.  Well,  when  I  heard 
him  talk  in  this  manner,  I,  of  course,  let  him  be ;  I  could  hardly 
help  laughing  at  the  figure  he  cut ;  his  face  all  blubbered  with 
tears,  and  blood  and  paint;  but  I  did  not  laugh  at  the  poor 
creature  either,  but  went  to  the  table  and  took  up  my  pipe,  and 
smoked  and  drank  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  and  the  fellow, 
after  having  been  to  the  pump,  came  and  sat  down,  crying  and 
trying  to  curry  favour  with  me  and  the  coachman;  presently, 
however,  putting  on  a  confidential  look,  he  began  to  talk  of  the 
Popish  house,  and  of  the  doings  there,  and  said  he  supposed  as 
how  we  were  of  the  party,  and  that  it  was  all  right ;  and  then  he 
began  to  talk  of  the  Pope  of  Rome,  and  what  a  nice  man  he  was, 
and  what  a  fine  thing  it  was  to  be  of  his  religion,  especially  if 
folks  went  over  to  him ;  and  how  it  advanced  them  in  the  world, 
and  gave  them  consideration ;  and  how  his  master,  who  had  been 
abroad  and  seen  the  Pope,  and  kissed  his  toe,  was  going  over  to 
the  Popish  religion,  and  had  persuaded  him  to  consent  to  do  so, 
and  to  forsake  his  own,  which  I  think  the  scoundrel  called  the 
Tiscopal  Church  of  Scotland,  and  how  many  others  of  that 
Church  were  going  over,  thinking  to  better  their  condition  in  life 
by  so  doing,  and  to  be  more  thought  on ;  and  how  many  of  the 
English  Church  were  thinking  of  going  over  too,  and  that  he  had 
no  doubt  that  it  would  all  end  right  and  comfortably.  Well,  as 
he  was  going  on  in  this  way,  the  old  coachman  began  to  spit,  and 
getting  up,  flung  all  the  beer  that  was  in  his  jug  upon  the  ground, 
and  going  away,  ordered  another  jug  of  beer,  and  sat  down  at 
another  table,  saying  that  he  would  not  drink  in  such  company ; 
and  I  too  got  up,  and  flung  what  beer  remained  in  my  jug — there 
wasn't  more  than  a  drop — in  the  fellow's  face,  saying,  I  would 
scorn  to  drink  any  more  in  such  company ;  and  then  I  went  to 
my  horses,  put  them  to,  paid  my  reckoning,  and  drove  home." 

The  postillion  having  related  his  story,  to  which  I  listened  with 
all  due  attention,  mused  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  "  I  daresay 
you  remember  how,  some  time  since,  when  old  Bill  had  been 
telling  us  how  the  Government  a  long  time  ago,  had  done  away 
with  robbing  on  the  highway,  by  putting  down  the  public-houses 


1825.]  MUMBO  JUMBO.  169 

and  places  which  the  highwaymen  frequented,  and  by  sending  out 
a  good  mounted  police  to  hunt  them  down,  I  said  that  it  was  a 
shame  that  the  present  Government  did  not  employ  somewhat 
the  same  means  in  order  to  stop  the  proceedings  of  Mumbo 
Jumbo  and  his  gang  now-a-days  in  England.  Howsomever,  since 
I  have  driven  a  fare  to  a  Popish  rendezvous,  and  seen  something 
of  what  is  going  on  there,  I  should  conceive  that  the  Govern- 
ment are  justified  in  allowing  the  gang  the  free  exercise  of  their 
calling.  Anybody  is  welcome  to  stoop  and  pick  up  nothing,  or 
worse  than  nothing,  and  if  Mumbo  Jumbo's  people,  after  their 
expeditions,  return  to  their  haunts  with  no  better  plunder  in  the 
shape  of  converts  than  what  I  saw  going  into  yonder  place  of  call, 
I  should  say  they  are  welcome  to  what  they  get ;  for  if  that's  the 
kind  of  rubbish  they  steal  out  of  the  Church  of  England,  or  any 
other  Church,  who  in  his  senses  but  would  say  a  good  riddance, 
and  many  thanks  for  your  trouble  ?  at  any  rate,  that  is  my  opinion 
of  the  matter." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IT  was  now  that  I  had  frequent  deliberations  with  myself.  Should 
I  continue  at  the  inn  in  my  present  position  ?  I  was  not  very 
much  captivated  with  it ;  there  was  little  poetry  in  keeping  an 
account  of  the  corn,  hay  and  straw  which  came  in,  and  was 
given  out,  and  I  was  fond  of  poetry ;  moreover,  there  was  no 
glory  at  all  to  be  expected  in  doing  so,  and  I  was  fond  of  glory. 
Should  I  give  up  that  situation,  and  remaining  at  the  inn,  become 
ostler  under  old  Bill?  There  was  more  poetry  in  rubbing  down 
horses  than  in  keeping  an  account  of  straw,  hay  and  corn ;  there 
was  also  some  prospect  of  glory  attached  to  the  situation  of 
ostler,  for  the  grooms  and  stable-boys  occasionally  talked  of  an 
ostler,  a  great  way  down  the  road,  who  had  been  presented  by 
some  sporting  people,  not  with  a  silver  vase,  as  our  governor  had 
been,  but  with  a  silver  currycomb,  in  testimony  of  their  admira- 
tion for  his  skill ;  but  I  confess  that  the  poetry  of  rubbing  down 
had  become,  as  all  other  poetry  becomes,  rather  prosy  by  frequent 
repetition,  and  with  respect  to  the  chance  of  deriving  glory  from 
the  employment,  I  entertained,  in  the  event  of  my  determining 
to  stay,  very  slight  hope  of  ever  attaining  skill  in  the  ostler  art 
sufficient  to  induce  sporting  people  to  bestow  upon  me  a  silver 
currycomb.  I  was  not  half  so  good  an  ostler  as  old  Bill,  who 
had  never  been  presented  with  a  silver  currycomb,  and  I  never 
expected  to  become  so,  therefore  what  chance  had  I  ?  It  was 
true,  there  was  a  prospect  of  some  pecuniary  emolument  to  be 
derived  by  remaining  in  either  situation.  It  was  very  probable 
that,  provided  I  continued  to  keep  an  account  of  the  hay  and 
corn  coming  in  and  expended,  the  landlord  would  consent  to 
allow  me  a  pound  a  week,  which  at  the  end  of  a  dozen  years, 
provided  I  kept  myself  sober,  would  amount  to  a  considerable 
sum.  I  might,  on  the  retirement  of  old  Bill,  by  taking  his  place, 
save  up  a  decent  sum  of  money,  provided,  unlike  him,  I  kept 
myself  sober,  and  laid  by  all  the  shillings  and  sixpences  I  got ; 
but  the  prospect  of  laying  up  a  decent  sum  of  money  was  not  of 
sufficient  importance  to  induce  me  to  continue  either  at  my 
wooden  desk,  or  in  the  inn-yard.  The  reader  will  remember 

(170) 


1825.]  DELIBERATIONS.  171 

what  difficulty  I  had  to  make  up  my  mind  to  become  a  merchant 
under  the  Armenian's  auspices,  even  with  the  prospect  of  making 
two  or  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  by  following  the  Armenian 
way  of  doing  business,  so  it  was  not  probable  that  I  should  feel 
disposed  to  be  book-keeper  or  ostler  all  my  life  with  no  other 
prospect  than  being  able  to  make  a  tidy  sum  of  money.  If, 
indeed,  besides  the  prospect  of  making  a  tidy  sum  at  the  end  of 
^erhaps  forty  years'  ostlering,  I  had  been  certain  of  being  pre- 
sented with  a  silver  currycomb  with  my  name  engraved  upon  it, 
which  I  might  have  left  to  my  descendants,  or,  in  default  thereof, 
to  the  parish  church  destined  to  contain  my  bones,  with  directions 
that  it  might  be  soldered  into  the  wall  above  the  arch  leading 
from  the  body  of  the  church  into  the  chancel — I  will  not  say  with 
such  a  certainty  of  immortality,  combined  with  such  a  prospect 
of  moderate  pecuniary  advantage, — I  might  not  have  thought  it 
worth  my  while  to  stay ;  but  I  entertained  no  such  certainty,  and, 
taking  everything  into  consideration,  I  determined  to  mount  my 
horse  and  leave  the  inn. 

This  horse  had  caused  me  for  some  time  past  no  little  per- 
plexity ;  I  had  frequently  repented  of  having  purchased  him,  more 
especially  as  the  purchase  had  been  made  with  another  person's 
money,  and  had  more  than  once  shown  him  to  people  who,  I 
imagined,  were  likely  to  purchase  him ;  but,  though  they  were 
profuse  in  his  praise,  as  people  generally  are  in  the  praise  of 
what  they  don't  intend  to  purchase,  they  never  made  me  an  offer, 
and  now  that  I  had  determined  to  mount  on  his  back  and  ride 
away,  what  was  I  to  do  with  him  in  the  sequel  ?  I  could  not 
maintain  him  long.  Suddenly  I  bethought  me  of  Horncastle, 
which  Francis  Ardry  had  mentioned  as  a  place  where  the  horse 
was  likely  to  find  a  purchaser,  and  not  having  determined  upon 
any  particular  place  to  which  to  repair,  I  thought  that  I  could  do 
no  better  than  betake  myself  to  Horncastle  in  the  first  instance, 
and  there  endeavour  to  dispose  of  my  horse. 

On  making  inquiries  with  respect  to  the  situation  of  Horn- 
castle, and  the  time  when  the  fair  would  be  held,  I  learned  that 
the  town  was  situated  in  Lincolnshire,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  the  inn  at  which  I  was  at  present  sojourning,  and  that 
the  fair  would  be  held  nominally  within  about  a  month,  but  that 
it  was  always  requisite  to  be  on  the  spot  some  days  before  the 
nominal  day  of  the  fair,  as  all  the  best  horses  were  generally  sold 
before  that  time,  and  the  people  who  came  to  purchase  gone  away 
with  what  they  had  bought. 

The  people  of  the  inn  were  very  sorry  on  being  informed  of 


i;*  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

my  determination  to  depart.  Old  Bill  told  me  that  he  had  hoped 
as  how  I  had  intended  to  settle  down  there,  and  to  take  his  place 
as  ostler  when  he  was  fit  for  no  more  work,  adding,  that  though 
I  did  not  know  much  of  the  business,  yet  he  had  no  doubt  but 
that  I  might  improve.  My  friend  the  postillion  was  particularly 
sorry,  and  taking  me  with  him  to  the  tap-room  called  for  two 
pints  of  beer,  to  one  of  which  he  treated  me  ;  and  whilst  we  were 
drinking  told  me  how  particularly  sorry  he  was  at  the  thought  of 
my  going,  but  that  he  hoped  I  should  think  better  of  the  matter. 
On  my  telling  him  that  I  must  go,  he  said  that  he  trusted  I  should 
put  off  my  departure  for  three  weeks,  in  order  that  I  might  be 
present  at  his  marriage,  the  banns  of  which  were  just  about  to  be 
published.  He  said  that  nothing  would  give  him  greater  pleasure 
than  to  see  me  dance  a  minuet  with  his  wife  after  the  marriage 
dinner ;  but  I  told  him  it  was  impossible  that  I  should  stay,  my 
affairs  imperatively  calling  me  elsewhere  ;  and  that  with  respect 
to  my  dancing  a  minuet,  such  a  thing  was  out  of  the  question,  as 
I  had  never  learned  to  dance.  At  which  he  said  that  he  was 
exceedingly  sorry,  and  finding  me  determined  to  go,  wished  me 
success  in  all  my  undertakings. 

The  master  of  the  house,  to  whom,  as  in  duty  bound  I  com- 
municated my  intention  before  I  spoke  of  it  to  the  servants,  was, 
I  make  no  doubt,  very  sorry,  though  he  did  not  exactly  tell  me  so. 
What  he  said  was,  that  he  had  never  expected  that  I  should  remain 
long  there,  as  such  a  situation  never  appeared  to  him  quite  suit- 
able to  me,  though  I  had  been  very  diligent,  and  had  given  him 
perfect  satisfaction.  On  his  inquiring  when  I  intended  to  depart, 
I  informed  him  next  day,  whereupon  he  begged  that  I  would  defer 
my  departure  till  the  next  day  but  one,  and  do  him  the  favour  of 
dining  with  him  on  the  morrow.  I  informed  him  that  I  should  be 
only  too  happy. 

On  the  following  day  at  four  o'clock  I  dined  with  the  landlord, 
in  company  with  a  commercial  traveller.  The  dinner  was  good, 
though  plain,  consisting  of  boiled  mackerel — rather  a  rarity  in  those 
parts  at  that  time — with  fennel  sauce,  a  prime  baron  of  roast  beef 
after  the  mackerel,  then  a  tart  and  noble  Cheshire  cheese ;  we 
had  prime  sherry  at  dinner,  and  whilst  eating  the  cheese  prime 
porter,  that  of  Barclay,  the  only  good  porter  in  the  world.  After 
the  cloth  was  removed  we  had  a  bottle  of  very  good  port ;  and 
whilst  partaking  of  the  port  I  had  an  argument  with  the  commercial 
traveller  on  the  subject  of  the  corn-laws. 

The  commercial  traveller,  having  worsted  me  in  the  argument 
on  the  subject  of  the  corn-laws,  got  up  in  great  glee,  saying  that 


i8as.]  THE  COMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER.  173 

he  must  order  his  gig,  as  business  must  be  attended  to.  Before 
leaving  the  room,  however,  he  shook  me  patronisingly  by  the  hand, 
and  said  something  to  the  master  of  the  house,  but  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  it  escaped  my  ear. 

No  sooner  had  he  departed  than  the  master  of  the  house  told 
me  that  his  friend  the  traveller  had  just  said  that  I  was  a  confounded 
sensible  young  fellow,  and  not  at  all  opinionated,  a  sentiment  in 
which  he  himself  perfectly  agreed  ;  then  hemming  once  or  twice, 
he  said  that  as  I  was  going  on  a  journey  he  hoped  I  was  tolerably 
well  provided  with  money,  adding  that  travelling  was  rather  expen- 
sive, especially  on  horseback,  the  manner  in  which  he  supposed, 
as  I  had  a  horse  in  the  stable,  I  intended  to  travel.  I  told  him 
that  though  I  was  not  particularly  well  supplied  with  money,  I  had 
sufficient  for  the  expenses  of  my  journey,  at  the  end  of  which  I 
hoped  to  procure  more.  He  then  hemmed  again,  and  said  that 
since  I  had  been  at  the  inn  I  had  rendered  him  a  great  deal  of 
service  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  that  he  could  not  think  of 
permitting  me  to  depart  without  making  me  some  remuneration ; 
then  putting  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  he  handed  me  a 
cheque  for  ten  pounds,  which  he  had  prepared  beforehand,  the 
value  of  which  he  said  I  could  receive  at  the  next  town,  or  that, 
if  I  wished  it,  any  waiter  in  the  house  would  cash  it  for  me.  I 
thanked  him  for  his  generosity  in  the  best  terms  I  could  select, 
but,  handing  him  back  the  cheque,  I  told  him  that  I  could  not 
accept  it,  saying  that,  so  far  from  his  being  my  debtor,  I  believed 
myself  to  be  indebted  to  him,  as  not  only  myself  but  my  horse 
had  been  living  at  his  house  for  several  weeks.  He  replied,  that 
as  for  my  board  at  a  house  like  his  it  amounted  to  nothing,  and 
as  for  the  little  corn  and  hay  which  the  horse  had  consumed  it  was 
of  no  consequence,  and  that  he  must  insist  upon  my  taking  the 
'heque.  But  I  again  declined,  telling  him  that  doing  so  would 
oe  a  violation  of  a  rule  which  I  had  determined  to  follow,  and 
which  nothing  but  the  greatest  necessity  would  ever  compel  me  to 
break  through — never  to  incur  obligations.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  re- 
ceiving this  money  will  not  be  incurring  an  obligation,  it  is  your 
due."  "  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  I ;  "  I  did  not  engage  to  serve 
you  for  money,  nor  will  I  take  any  from  you."  "  Perhaps  you  will 
take  it  as  a  loan?"  said  he.  "  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  never  borrow." 
"  Well,"  said  the  landlord,  smiling,  "  you  are  different  from  all 
others  that  I  am  acquainted  with.  I  never  yet  knew  any  one  else 
who  scrupled  to  borrow  and  receive  obligations ;  why,  there  are 
two  baronets  in  this  neighbourhood  who  have  borrowed  money  of 
me,  ay,  and  who  have  never  repaid  what  they  borrowed  ;  and  there 


i74  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [i8f5. 

are  a  dozen  squires  who  are  under  considerable  obligations  to  me, 
who  I  daresay  will  never  return  them.  Come,  you  need  not  be 
more  scrupulous  than  your  superiors — I  mean  in  station."  "  Every 
vessel  must  stand  on  its  own  bottom,"  said  I ;  "  they  take  pleasure 
in  receiving  obligations,  I  take  pleasure  in  being  independent. 
Perhaps  they  are  wise,  and  I  am  a  fool,  I  know  not,  but  one  thing 
I  am  certain  of,  which  is,  that  were  I  not  independent  I  should  be 
very  unhappy  :  I  should  have  no  visions  then."  "  Have  you  any 
relations?"  said  the  landlord,  looking  at  me  compassionately; 
"excuse  me,  but  I  don't  th  nk  you  are  exactly  fit  to  take  care  of 
yourself."  "  There  you  are  mistaken,"  said  I,  "  I  can  take  precious 
good  care  of  myself;  ay,  and  can  drive  a  precious  hard  bargain 
when  I  have  occasion,  but  driving  bargains  is  a  widely  different 
thing  from  receiving  gifts.  I  am  going  to  take  my  horse  to  Horn- 
castle,  and  when  there  I  shall  endeavour  to  obtain  his  full  value 
— ay  to  the  last  penny." 

"  Horncastle  ! "  said  the  landlord,  "  I  have  heard  of  that  place ; 
you  mustn't  be  dreaming  visions  when  you  get  there,  or  they'll  steal 
the  horse  from  under  you.  "Well,"  said  he,  rising,  "  I  shall  not 
press  you  further  on  the  subject  of  the  cheque.  I  intend,  how- 
ever, to  put  you  under  an  obligation  to  me."  He  then  rang  the 
bell,  and  having  ordered  two  fresh  glasses  to  be  brought,  he  went 
out  and  presently  returned  with  a  small  pint  bottle,  which  he  un- 
corked with  his  own  hand  ;  then  sitting  down,  he  said  :  "  The  wine 
that  I  bring  here,  is  port  of  eighteen  hundred  and  eleven,  the  year 
of  the  comet,  the  best  vintage  on  record ;  the  wine  which  we  have 
been  drinking,"  he  added,  "  is  good,  but  not  to  be  compared  with 
this,  which  I  never  sell,  and  which  I  am  chary  of.  When  you  have 
drunk  some  of  it,  I  think  you  will  own  that  I  have  conferred  an 
obligation  upon  you  ; "  he  then  filled  the  glasses,  the  wine  which 
he  poured  out  diffusing  an  aroma  through  the  room  •  then  motion- 
ing me  to  drink,  he  raised  his  own  glass  to  his  lips,  saying  :  '  Come, 
friend,  I  drink  to  your  success  at  Horncastle  ". 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

I  DEPARTED  from  the  inn  much  in  the  same  fashion  as  I  had  come 
to  it,  mounted  on  a  splendid  horse  indifferently  well  caparisoned, 
with  the  small  valise  attached  to  my  crupper,  in  which,  besides  the 
few  things  I  had  brought  with  me,  was  a  small  book  of  roads  with 
a  map,  which  had  been  presented  to  me  by  the  landlord.  I  must 
not  forget  to  state  that  I  did  not  ride  out  of  the  yard,  but  that  my 
horse  was  brought  to  me  at  the  front  door  by  old  Bill,  who  insisted 
upon  doing  so,  and  who  refused  a  five-shilling  piece  which  I  offered 
him  ;  and  it  will  be  as  well  to  let  the  reader  know  that  the  landlord 
shook  me  by  the  hand  as  I  mounted,  and  that  the  people  attached 
to  the  inn,  male  and  female — my  friend  the  postillion  at  the  head — 
assembled  before  the  house  to  see  me  off,  and  gave  me  three  cheers 
as  I  rode  away.  Perhaps  no  person  ever  departed  from  an  inn  with 
more  'eclat  or  better  wishes  ;  nobody  looked  at  me  askance,  except 
two  stage-coachmen  who  were  loitering  about,  one  of  whom  said  to 
his  companion  :  "  I  say,  Jim  !  twig  his  portmanteau  !  a  regular  New- 
market turn-out,  by !" 

It  was  in  the  cool  01  the  evening  of  a  bright  day — all  the  days 
of  that  summer  were  bright — that  I  departed.  I  felt  at  first  rather 
melancholy  at  finding  myself  again  launched  into  the  wide  world, 
and  leaving  the  friends  whom  I  had  lately  made  behind  me ;  but 
by  occasionally  trotting  the  horse,  and  occasionally  singing  a  song 
of  Romanvile,  I  had  dispelled  the  feeling  of  melancholy  by  the 
time  I  had  proceeded  three  miles  down  the  main  road.  It  was 
at  the  end  of  these  three  miles,  just  opposite  a  milestone,  that  I 
struck  into  a  cross  road.  After  riding  about  seven  miles,  thread- 
ing what  are  called,  in  postillion  parlance,  cross-country  roads,  I 
reached  another  high  road,  tending  to  the  east,  along  which  I 
proceeded  for  a  mile  or  two,  when  coming  to  a  small  inn,  about 
nine  o'clock,  I  halted  and  put  up  for  the  night. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  I  proceeded  on  my  journey, 
but  fearing  to  gall  the  horse,  I  no  longer  rode  him,  but  led  him 
by  the  bridle,  until  I  came  to  a  town  at  a  distance  of  about  ten 
miles  from  the  place  where  I  had  passed  the  night.  Here  I 
stayed  during  the  heat  ot  the  day,  more  on  the  horse's  account 

('75) 


176  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

than  my  own,  and  towards  evening  resumed  my  journey,  leading 
the  animal  by  the  bridle  as  before ;  and  in  this  manner  I  pro- 
ceeded for  several  days,  travelling  on  an  average  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  miles  a  day,  always  leading  the  animal,  except  perhaps 
now  and  then  of  an  evening,  when,  if  I  saw  a  good  piece  of  road 
before  me,  I  would  mount  and  put  the  horse  into  a  trot,  which 
the  creature  seemed  to  enjoy  as  much  as  myself,  showing  his 
satisfaction  by  snorting  and  neighing,  whilst  I  gave  utterance  to 
to  my  own  exhilaration  by  shouts,  or  by  "  the  chi  she  is  kaulo  ;  she 
soves  pre  lakie  dumo,"  or  by  something  else  of  the  same  kind  in 
Roman  vile. 

On  the  whole,  I  journeyed  along  very  pleasantly,  certainly 
quite  as  pleasantly  as  I  do  at  present,  now  that  I  am  become  a 
gentleman  and  weigh  sixteen  stone,  though  some  people  would 
say  that  my  present  manner  of  travelling  is  much  the  most  pre- 
ferable, riding  as  I  now  do,  instead  of  leading  my  horse ;  receiving 
the  homage  of  ostlers  instead  of  their  familiar  nods  ;  sitting  down 
to  dinner  in  the  parlour  of  the  best  inn  I  can  find,  instead  of 
passing  the  brightest  part  of  the  day  in  the  kitchen  of  a  village 
ale-house ;  carrying  on  my  argument  after  dinner  on  the  subject 
of  the  corn-laws,  with  the  best  commercial  gentlemen  on  the  road, 
instead  of  being  glad,  whilst  sipping  a  pint  of  beer,  to  get  into 
conversation  with  blind  trampers,  or  maimed  Abraham  sailors, 
regaling  themselves  on  half-pints  at  the  said  village  hostelries. 
Many  people  will  doubtless  say  that  things  have  altered  wonder- 
fully with  me  for  the  better,  and  they  would  say  right,  provided  I 
possessed  now  what  I  then  carried  about  with  me  in  my  journeys 
—the  spirit  of  youth.  Youth  is  the  only  season  for  enjoyment, 
and  the  first  twenty-five  years  of  one's  life  are  worth  all  the  rest 
of  the  longest  life  of  man,  even  though  those  five-and  twenty  be 
spent  in  penury  and  contempt,  and  the  rest  in  the  possession  of 
wealth,  honours,  respectability,  ay,  and  many  of  them  in  strength 
and  health,  such  as  will  enable  one  to  ride  forty  miles  before 
dinner,  and  over  one's  pint  of  port — for  the  best  gentleman  in 
the  land  should  not  drink  a  bottle — carry  on  one's  argument, 
with  gravity  and  decorum,  with  any  commercial  gentleman  who, 
responsive  to  one's  challenge,  takes  the  part  of  humanity  and 
common  sense  against  "  protection "  and  the  lord  of  the  land. 

Ah  !  there  is  nothing  like  youth — not  that  after-life  is  value- 
less. Even  in  extreme  old  age  one  may  get  on  very  well,  provided 
we  will  but  accept  of  the  bounties  of  God.  I  met  the  other  day 
an  old  man,  who  asked  me  to  drink.  "  I  am  not  thirsty,"  said  I, 
"and  will  not  drink  with  you,"  "Yes,  you  will,''  said  the  old 


1825.]  BEAUTIFUL  ENGLAND.  177 

man,  "for  I  am  this  day  one  hundred  years  old ;  and  you  will 
never  again  have  an  opportunity  of  drinking  the  health  of  a  man 
on  his  hundredth  birthday."  So  I  broke  my  word,  and  drank. 
"  Yours  is  a  wonderful  age,"  said  I.  "  It  is  a  long  time  to  look 
back  to  the  beginning  of  it,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  yet,  upon  the 
whole,  I  am  not  sorry  to  have  lived  it  all."  "  How  have  you 
passed  your  time  ?  "  said  I.  "  As  well  as  I  could,"  said  the  old 
man ;  "  always  enjoying  a  good  thing  when  it  came  honestly 
within  my  reach;  not  forgetting  to  praise  God  for  putting  it 
there."  "  I  suppose  you  were  fond  of  a  glass  of  good  ale  when 
you  were  young  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  was ;  and  so, 
ihank  God,  I  am  still."  And  he  drank  off  a  glass  of  ale. 

On  I  went  in  my  journey,  traversing  England  from  west  to 
east,  ascending  and  descending  hills,  crossing  rivers  by  bridge 
and  ferry,  and  passing  over  extensive  plains.  What  a  beautiful 
country  is  England !  People  run  abroad  to  see  beautiful  coun- 
tries, and  leave  their  own  behind  unknown,  unnoticed — their 
own  the  most  beautiful !  And  then,  again,  what  a  country  for 
adventures  !  especially  to  those  who  travel  it  on  foot,  or  on  horse- 
back. People  run  abroad  in  quest  of  adventures,  and  traverse 
Spain  or  Portugal  on  mule  or  on  horseback ;  whereas  there  are 
ten  times  more  adventures  to  be  met  with  in  England  than  in 
Spain,  Portugal,  or  stupid  Germany  to  boot.  Witness  the  number 
of  adventures  narrated  in  the  present  book — a  book  entirely  de- 
voted to  England.  Why,  there  is  not  a  chapter  in  the  present 
book  which  is  not  full  of  adventures,  with  the  exception  of  the 
present  one,  and  this  is  not  yet  terminated. 

After  traversing  two  or  three  counties,  I  reached  the  confines 
of  Lincolnshire.  During  one  particularly  hot  day  I  put  up  at 
a  public-house,  to  which,  in  the  evening,  came  a  party  of 
harvesters  to  make  merry,  who,  finding  me  wandering  about  the 
house  a  stranger,  invited  me  to  partake  of  their  ale ;  so  I  drank 
with  the  harvesters,  who  sang  me  songs  about  rural  life,  such 
as: — 

Sitting  in  the  swale ;  and  listening  to  the  swindle  of  the  flail,  as  it 
sounds  dub-a-dub  on  the  corn,  from  the  neighbouring  barn. 

In  requital  for  which  I  treated  them  with  a  song,  not  of  Roman- 
vile,  but  the  song  of  "Sivord  and  the  horse  Grayman ".  I 
remained  with  them  till  it  was  dark,  having,  after  sunset,  entered 
into  deep  discourse  with  a  celebrated  ratcatcher,  who  communi- 
cated to  me  the  secrets  of  his  trade,  saying,  amongst  other  things : 
"  When  you  see  the  rats  pouring  out  of  their  holes,  and  running 

12 


178  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

up  my  hands  and  arms,  it's  not  after  me  they  comes,  but  after 
the  oils  I  carries  about  me  they  comes  " ;  and  who  subsequently 
spoke  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner  of  his  trade,  saying  that  it 
was  the  best  trade  in  the  world,  and  most  diverting,  and  that  it 
was  likely  to  last  for  ever ;  for  whereas  all  other  kinds  of  vermin 
were  fast  disappearing  from  England,  rats  were  every  day  be- 
coming more  abundant.  I  had  quitted  this  good  company,  and 
having  mounted  my  horse,  was  making  my  way  towards  a  town 
at  about  six  miles  distance,  at  a  swinging  trot,  my  thoughts  deeply 
engaged  on  what  I  had  gathered  from  the  ratcatcher,  when  all  on 
a  sudden  a  light  glared  upon  the  horse's  face,  who  purled  round 
in  great  terror,  and  flung  me  out  of  the  saddle,  as  from  a  sling, 
or  with  as  much  violence  as  the  horse  Grayman,  in  the  ballad, 
flings  Sivord  the  Snareswayne.  I  fell  upon  the  ground — felt  a 
kind  of  crashing  about  my  neck — and  forthwith  became  senseless. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

How  long  I  remained  senseless  I  cannot  say — for  a  considerable 
time,  I  believe ;  at  length,  opening  my  eyes,  I  found  myself  lying 
on  a  bed  in  a  middle-sized  chamber,  lighted  by  a  candle,  which 
stood  on  a  table.  An  elderly  man  stood  near  me,  and  a  yet  more 
elderly  female  was  holding  a  phial  of  very  pungent  salts  to  my 
olfactory  organ.  I  attempted  to  move,  but  felt  very  stiff;  my 
right  arm  appeared  nearly  paralysed,  and  there  was  a  strange  dull 
sensation  in  my  head.  "You  had  better  remain  still,  young 
man,"  said  the  elderly  individual,  "  the  surgeon  will  be  here 
presently;  I  have  sent  a  message  for  him  to  the  neighbouring 
village."  "Where  am  I?"  said  I,  "and  what  has  happened ?" 
"  You  are  in  my  house,"  said  the  old  man,  "and  you  have  been 
flung  from  a  horse.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  was  the  cause.  As 
I  was  driving  home,  the  lights  in  my  gig  frightened  the  animal." 
"  Where  is  the  horse?  "  said  I.  "  Below,  in  my  stable,"  said  the 
elderly  individual.  "  I  saw  you  fall,  but  knowing  that  on  account 
of  my  age  I  could  be  of  little  use  to  you,  I  instantly  hurried  home 
— the  accident  did  not  occur  more  than  a  furlong  off — and  procuring 
the  assistance  of  my  lad,  and  two  or  three  neighbouring  cottagers, 
I  returned  to  the  spot  where  you  were  lying  senseless.  We  raised 
you  up,  and  brought  you  here.  My  lad  then  went  in  quest  of 
the  horse,  who  had  run  away  as  we  drew  nigh.  When  we  saw 
him  first,  he  was  standing  near  you ;  he  caught  him  with  some 
difficulty,  and  brought  him  home.  What  are  you  about?"  said 
the  old  man,  as  I  strove  to  get  off  the  bed.  "  I  want  to  see  the 
horse,"  said  I.  "I  entreat  you  to  be  still,"  said  the  old  man; 
"the  horse  is  safe,  I  assure  you."  "I  am  thinking  about  his 
knees,"  said  I.  "  Instead  of  thinking  about  your  horse's  knees," 
said  the  old  man,  "  be  thankful  that  you  have  not  broke  your 
own  neck."  "You  do  not  talk  wisely,"  said  I;  "when  a  man's 
neck  is  broke,  he  is  provided  for ;  but  when  his  horse's  knees  are 
broke,  he  is  a  lost  jockey,  that  is,  if  he  has  nothing  but  his  horse 
to  depend  upon.  A  pretty  figure  I  should  cut  at  Horncastle, 
mounted  on  a  horse  blood-raw  at  the  knees."  "Oh,  you  are 
going  to  Horncastle,"  said  the  old  man  seriously,  "then  I  can 


i8o  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

sympathise  with  you  in  your  anxiety  about  your  horse,  being  a 
Lincolnshire  man,  and  the  son  of  one  who  bred  horses.  I  will 
myself  go  down  into  the  stable,  and  examine  into  the  condition 
of  your  horse,  so  pray  remain  quiet  till  I  return ;  it  would  certainly 
be  a  terrible  thing  to  appear  at  Horncastle  on  a  broken-kneed 
horse." 

He  left  the  room  and  returned  in  about  ten  minutes,  followed 
by  another  person.  "Your  horse  is  safe,"  said  he,  "and  his 
knees  are  unblemished ;  not  a  hair  ruffled.  He  is  a  fine  animal, 
and  will  do  credit  to  Horncastle ;  but  here  is  the  surgeon  come 
to  examine  into  your  own  condition."  The  surgeon  was  a  man 
about  thirty-five,  thin,  and  rather  tall ;  his  face  was  long  and  pale, 
and  his  hair,  which  was  light,  was  carefully  combed  back  as 
much  as  possible  from  his  forehead.  He  was  dressed  very  neatly, 
and  spoke  in  a  very  precise  tone.  "  Allow  me  to  feel  your  pulse, 
friend  ?  "  said  he,  taking  me  by  the  right  wrist.  I  uttered  a  cry, 
for  at  the  motion  which  he  caused  a  thrill  of  agony  darted  through 
my  arm.  "  I  hope  your  arm  is  not  broke,  my  friend,"  said  the 
surgeon,  "allow  me  to  see;  first  of  all,  we  must  divest  you  of 
this  cumbrous  frock." 

The  frock  was  removed  with  some  difficulty,  and  then  the 
upper  vestments  of  my  frame,  with  more  difficulty  still.  The 
surgeon  felt  my  arm,  moving  it  up  and  down,  causing  me  unspeak- 
able pain.  "  There  is  no  fracture,"  said  he  at  last,  "  but  a 
contusion — a  violent  contusion.  I  am  told  you  were  going  to 
Horncastle;  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  hardly  able  to  ride  your 
horse  thither  in  time  to  dispose  of  him ;  however,  we  shall  see ; 
your  arm  must  be  bandaged,  friend,  after  which  I  shall  bleed 
you,  and  administer  a  composing  draught." 

To  be  short,  the  surgeon  did  as  he  proposed,  and  when  he 
nad  administered  the  composing  draught,  he  said  :  "Be  of  good 
cheer  ;  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you  are  yet  in  time  for  Horn- 
castle ".  He  then  departed  with  the  master  of  the  house,  and  the 
woman,  leaving  me  to  my  repose.  I  soon  began  to  feel  drowsy, 
and  was  just  composing  myself  to  slumber,  lying  on  my  back,  as 
the  surgeon  had  advised  me,  when  I  heard  steps  ascending  the 
stairs,  and  in  a  moment  more  the  surgeon  entered  again,  followed 
by  the  master  of  the  house.  "  I  hope  we  don't  disturb  you," 
said  the  former ;  "  my  reason  for  returning  is  to  relieve  your  mind 
from  any  anxiety  with  respect  to  your  horse.  I  am  by  no  means 
sure  that  you  will  be  able,  owing  to  your  accident,  to  reach  Horn- 
castle in  time :  to  quiet  you,  however,  I  will  buy  your  horse  for 
any  reasonable  sum.  I  have  been  down  to  the  stable,  and  approve 


1825.]  THE  SURGEON.  i8x 

of  his  figure.  What  do  you  ask  for  him?  "  "This  is  a  strange 
time  of  night,"  said  I,  "to  come  to  me  about  purchasing  my 
horse,  and  I  am  hardly  in  a  fitting  situation  to  be  applied  to  about 
such  a  matter.  What  do  you  want  him  for?"  "For  my  own 
use,"  said  the  surgeon ;  "  I  am  a  professional  man,  and  am 
obliged  to  be  continually  driving  about;  I  cover  at  least  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  every  week."  "He  will  never  answer 
your  purpose,"  said  I ;  "  he  is  not  a  driving  horse,  and  was  never 
between  shafts  in  his  life;  he  is  for  riding,  more  especially  for 
trotting,  at  which  he  has  few  equals."  "It  matters  not  to  me 
whether  he  is  for  riding  or  driving,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  sometimes 
I  ride,  sometimes  drive ;  so,  if  we  can  come  to  terms,  I  will  buy  him, 
though,  remember,  it  is  chiefly  to  remove  any  anxiety  from  your 
mind  about  him."  " This  is  no  time  for  bargaining,"  said  I ;  "if 
you  wish  to  have  the  horse  for  a  hundred  guineas,  you  may ;  if 

not "     "A  hundred  guineas  !  "  said  the  surgeon ;  "my  good 

friend,  you  must  surely  be  light-headed — allow  me  to  feel  your 
pulse,"  and  he  attempted  to  feel  my  left  wrist.  "  I  am  not  light- 
headed," said  I,  "  and  I  require  no  one  to  feel  my  pulse ;  but  I 
should  be  light-headed  if  I  were  to  sell  my  horse  for  less  than  I 
have  demanded  ;  but  I  have  a  curiosity  to  know  what  you  would 
be  willing  to  offer."  "  Thirty  pounds,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  is  all 
I  can  afford  to  give  ;  and  that  is  a  great  deal  for  a  country  surgeon 
to  offer  for  a  horse."  "  Thirty  pounds  !  "  said  I,  "  why,  he  cost 
me  nearly  double  that  sum.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  afraid 
you  want  to  take  advantage  of  my  situation."  "  Not  in  the 
least,  friend,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  not  in  the  least ;  I  only  wished 
to  set  your  mind  at  rest  about  your  horse ;  but  as  you  think  he 
is  worth  more  than  I  can  afford  to  offer,  take  him  to  Horncastle 
by  all  means;  I  will  do  my  best  to  cure  you  in  time.  Good- 
night, I  will  see  you  again  on  the  morrow."  Thereupon  he  once 
more  departed  with  the  master  of  the  house.  "  A  sharp  one," 
I  heard  him  say,  with  a  laugh,  as  the  door  closed  upon  him. 

Left  to  myself,  I  again  essayed  to  compose  myself  to  rest,  but 
for  some  time  in  vain.  I  had  been  terribly  shaken  by  my  fall, 
and  had  subsequently,  owing  to  the  incision  of  the  surgeon's 
lancet,  been  deprived  of  much  of  the  vital  fluid  ;  it  is  when  the 
body  is  in  such  a  state  that  the  merest  trifles  affect  and  agitate 
the  mind ;  no  wonder,  then,  that  the  return  of  the  surgeon  and 
the  master  of  the  house  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring  whether  I 
would  sell  my  horse,  struck  me  as  being  highly  extraordinary, 
considering  the  hour  of  the  night,  and  the  situation  in  which  they 
knew  me  to  be.  What  could  they  mean  by  such  conduct — 


i8*  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

did  they  wish  to  cheat  me  of  the  animal?  "Well,  well,"  said 
I,  "if  they  did,  what  matters,  they  found  their  match  ;  yes,  yes," 
said  I,  "but  I  am  in  their  power,  perhaps" — but  I  instantly  dis- 
missed the  apprehension  which  came  into  my  mind,  with  a  pooh, 
nonsense !  In  a  little  time,  however,  a  far  more  foolish  and 
chimerical  idea  began  to  disturb  me — the  idea  of  being  flung  from 
my  horse ;  was  I  not  disgraced  for  ever  as  a  horseman  by  being 
flung  from  my  horse?  Assuredly  I  thought ;  and  the  idea  of  being 
disgraced  as  a  horseman,  operating  on  my  nervous  system,  caused 
me  very  acute  misery.  "After  all,"  said  I  to  myself,  "it  was 
perhaps  the  contemptible  opinion  which  the  surgeon  must  have 
formed  of  my  equestrian  powers,  which  induced  him  to  offer  to 
take  my  horse  off  my  hands ;  he  perhaps  thought  I  was  unable 
to  manage  a  horse,  and  therefore  in  pity  returned  in  the  dead  of 
night  to  offer  to  purchase  the  animal  which  had  flung  me;" 
and  then  the  thought  that  the  surgeon  had  conceived  a  contemp- 
tible opinion  of  my  equestrian  powers,  caused  me  the  acutest 
misery,  and  continued  tormenting  me  until  some  other  idea  (I 
have  forgot  what  it  was,  but  doubtless  equally  foolish)  took  pos- 
session of  my  mind.  At  length,  brought  on  by  the  agitation  of 
my  spirits,  there  came  over  me  the  same  feeling  of  horror  that  I  had 
experienced  of  old  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  likewise  of  late  within 
the  dingle ;  it  was,  however,  not  so  violent  as  it  had  been  on 
those  occasions,  and  I  struggled  manfully  against  it  until  by 
degrees  it  passed  away,  and  then  I  fell  asleep ;  and  in  my  sleep  I 
had  an  ugly  dream.  I  dreamt  that  I  had  died  of  the  injuries  I 
had  received  from  my  fall,  and  that  no  sooner  had  my  soul  departed 
from  my  body  than  it  entered  that  of  a  quadruped,  even  my  own 
horse  in  the  stable — in  a  word,  I  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
my  own  steed ;  and  as  I  stood  in  the  stable  chewing  hay  (and  I 
remembered  that  the  hay  was  exceedingly  tough),  the  door  opened, 
and  the  surgeon  who  had  attended  me  came  in.  "  My  good 
animal,"  said  he,  "  as  your  late  master  has  scarcely  left  enough  to 
pay  for  the  expenses  of  his  funeral,  and  nothing  to  remunerate 
me  for  my  trouble,  I  shall  make  bold  to  take  possession  of  you. 
If  your  paces  are  good,  I  shall  keep  you  for  my  own  riding  ;  if  not, 
I  shall  take  you  to  Horncastle,  your  original  destination."  He 
then  bridled  and  saddled  me,  and  leading  me  out,  mounted,  and 
then  trotted  me  up  and  down  before  the  house,  at  the  door  of 
which  the  old  man,  who  now  appeared  to  be  dressed  in  regular 
jockey  fashion,  was  standing.  "  I  like  his  paces  well,"  said  the 
surgeon  ;  "  I  think  I  shall  take  him  for  my  own  use."  "  And  what 
am  I  to  have  for  all  the  trouble  his  master  caused  me  ?  "  said  my 


i8*5-]  STRANGE  DREAM.  183 

late  entertainer,  on  whose  countenance  I  now  observed,  for  the 
first  time,  a  diabolical  squint.  "The  consciousness  of  having 
done  your  duty  to  a  fellow- creature  in  succouring  him  in  a  time 
of  distress,  must  be  your  reward,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Pretty 
gammon,  truly,"  said  my  late  entertainer.  "  What  would  you  say  if 
I  were  to  talk  in  that  way  to  you  ?  Come,  unless  you  choose  to 
behave  jonnock,  I  shall  take  the  bridle  and  lead  the  horse  back 
into  the  stable."  "Well,"  said  the  surgeon,  "we  are  old  friends, 
and  I  don't  wish  to  dispute  with  you,  so  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will 
do  ?  I  will  ride  the  animal  to  Horncastle,  and  we  will  share  what 
he  fetches  like  brothers."  "Good,"  said  the  old  man,  "but  if 
you  say  that  you  have  sold  him  for  less  than  a  hundred,  I  shan't 
consider  you  jonnock ;  remember  what  the  young  fellow  said — 

that  young  fellow "  I  heard  no  more,  for  the  next  moment  I 

found  myself  on  a  broad  road  leading,  as  I  supposed,  in  the 
direction  of  Horncastle,  the  surgeon  still  in  the  saddle,  and  my 
legs  moving  at  a  rapid  trot.  "  Get  on,"  said  the  surgeon,  jerking 
my  mouth  with  the  bit ;  whereupon,  full  of  rage,  I  instantly  set 
off  at  full  gallop,  determined,  if  possible,  to  dash  my  rider  to  the 
earth.  The  surgeon,  however,  kept  his  seat,  and  so  far  from 
attempting  to  abate  my  speed,  urged  me  on  to  greater  efforts  with 
a  stout  stick,  which  methought  he  held  in  his  hand.  In  vain  did 
I  rear  and  kick,  attempting  to  get  rid  of  my  foe ;  but  the  surgeon 
remained  as  saddle-fast  as  ever  the  Maugrabin  sorcerer  in  the 
Arabian  tale,  what  time  he  rode  the  young  prince  transformed  into 
a  steed  to  his  enchanted  palace  in  the  wilderness.  At  last,  as  I 
was  still  madly  dashing  on,  panting  and  blowing,  and  had  almost 
given  up  all  hope,  I  saw  at  a  distance  before  me  a  heap  of  stones 
by  the  side  of  the  road,  probably  placed  there  for  the  purpose  of 
repairing  it ;  a  thought  appeared  to  strike  me — I  will  shy  at  those 
stones,  and,  if  I  can't  get  rid  of  him  so,  resign  myself  to  my  fate. 
So  I  increased  my  speed,  till  arriving  within  about  ten  yards  of 
the  heap,  I  made  a  desperate  start,  turning  half-round  with  nearly 
the  velocity  of  a  mill-stone.  Oh,  the  joy  I  experienced  when  I 
felt  my  enemy  canted  over  my  neck,  and  saw  him  lying  senseless 
in  the  road.  "I  have  you  now  in  my  power,"  I  said,  or  rather 
neighed,  as,  going  up  to  my  prostrate  foe,  I  stood  over  him. 
"  Suppose  I  were  to  rear  now,  and  let  my  fore  feet  fall  upon  you, 
what  would  your  life  be  worth  ?  that  is,  supposing  you  are  not 
killed  already  ;  but  lie  there,  I  will  do  you  no  further  harm,  but 

trot  to  Horncastle  without  a  rider,  and  when  there "  and 

without  further  reflection  off  I  trotted  in  the  direction  of 
Horncastle,  but  had  not  gone  far  before  my  bridle,  falling  from 


184  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

my  neck,  got  entangled  with  my  off  fore  foot.  I  felt  myself  falling, 
a  thrill  of  agony  shot  through  me — my  knees  would  be 
broken,  and  what  should  I  do  at  Horncastle  with  a  pair 
of  broken  knees ;  I  struggled,  but  I  could  not  disengage  my  off 
fore  foot,  and  downward  I  fell,  but  before  I  had  reached  the 
ground  I  awoke,  and  found  myself  half  out  of  bed,  my  bandaged 
arm  in  considerable  pain,  and  my  left  hand  just  touching  the 
floor. 

With  some  difficulty  I  readjusted  myself  in  bed.  It  was  now 
early  morning,  and  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  were  beginning  to 
penetrate  the  white  curtains  of  a  window  on  my  left,  which 
probably  looked  into  a  garden,  as  I  caught  a  glimpse  or  two  of 
the  leaves  of  trees  through  a  small  uncovered  part  at  the  side.  For 
some  time  I  felt  uneasy  and  anxious,  my  spirits  being  in  a  strange 
fluttering  state.  At  last  my  eyes  fell  upon  a  small  row  of  teacups, 
seemingly  of  china,  which  stood  on  a  mantelpiece  exactly  fronting 
the  bottom  of  the  bed.  The  sight  of  these  objects,  I  know  not  why, 
soothed  and  pacified  me ;  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  them,  as  1 
lay  on  my  back  on  the  bed,  with  my  head  upon  the  pillow,  till  at 
last  I  fell  into  a  calm  and  refreshing  sleep. 


{End  of  Vol.  /.,  1857.] 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

IT  might  be  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  I  was 
awakened  by  the  entrance  of  the  old  man.  "  How  have  you 
rested  ?  "  said  he,  coming  up  to  the  bedside,  and  looking  me  in 
the  face.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  and  I  feel  much  better,  but  I  am  still 
very  sore."  I  surveyed  him  now  for  the  first  time  with  attention. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  sober-coloured  suit,  and  was  apparently 
between  sixty  and  seventy.  In  stature  he  was  rather  above  the 
middle  height,  but  with  a  slight  stoop ;  his  features  were  placid, 
and  expressive  of  much  benevolence,  but  as  it  appeared  to  me,  with 
rather  a  melancholy  cast.  As  I  gazed  upon  them,  I  felt  ashamed 
that  I  should  ever  have  conceived  in  my  brain  a  vision  like  that 
of  the  preceding  night,  in  which  he  appeared  in  so  disadvantageous 
a  light.  At  length  he  said  :  "  It  is  now  time  for  you  to  take  some 
refreshment.  I  hear  my  old  servant  coming  up  with  your  break- 
fast." In  a  moment  the  elderly  female  entered  with  a  tray,  on 
which  was  some  bread  and  butter,  a  teapot  and  cup.  The  cup 
was  of  common  blue  earthenware,  but  the  pot  was  of  china, 
curiously  fashioned,  and  seemingly  of  great  antiquity.  The  old 
man  poured  me  out  a  cupful  of  tea,  and  then,  with  the  assistance 
of  the  woman,  raised  me  higher,  and  propped  me  up  with  pillows. 
I  ate  and  drank ;  when  the  pot  was  emptied  of  its  liquid  (it  did 
not  contain  much),  I  raised  it  up  with  my  left  hand  to  inspect  it. 
The  sides  were  covered  with  curious  characters,  seemingly 
hieroglyphics.  After  surveying  them  for  some  time,  I  replaced 
it  upon  the  tray.  "  You  seem  fond  of  china,"  said  I  to  the  old 
man,  after  the  servant  had  retired  with  the  breakfast  things,  and  I 
had  returned  to  my  former  posture;  "you  have  china  on  the 
mantelpiece,  and  that  was  a  remarkable  teapot  out  of  which  I  have 
just  been  drinking." 

The  old  man  fixed  his  eyes  intently  on  me,  and  methought 
the  expression  of  his  countenance  became  yet  more  melancholy. 
"  Yes,"  said  he  at  last,  "I  am  fond  of  china — I  have  reason  to  be 

fond  of  china — but  for  china  I  should "  and  here  he  sighed 

again. 

"You  value  it  for  the  quaintness  and  singularity  of  its  form," 
(185) 


i86  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [18*5. 

said  I;  "it  appears  to  be  less  adapted  for  real  use  than  our  own 
pottery." 

"  I  care  little  about  its  form,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  I  care  for 

it  simply  on  account  of however,  why  talk  to  you  on  the 

subject  which  can  have  no  possible  interest  for  you  ?  I  expect  the 
surgeon  here  presently." 

"  I  do  not  like  that  surgeon  at  all,"  said  I ;  "  how  strangely  he 
behaved  last  night,  coming  back,  when  I  was  just  falling  asleep,  to 
ask  me  if  I  would  sell  my  horse." 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  He  has  but  one  failing,"  said  he,  "  an 
itch  for  horse-dealing;  but  for  that  he  might  be  a  much  richer 
man  than  he  is ;  he  is  continually  buying  and  exchanging  horses, 
and  generally  finds  himself  a  loser  by  his  bargains :  but  he  is  a 
worthy  creature,  and  skilful  in  his  profession ;  it  is  well  for  you 
that  you  are  under  his  care." 

The  old  man  then  left  me,  and  in  about  an  hour  returned  with 
the  surgeon,  who  examined  me  and  reported  favourably  as  to  my 
case.  He  spoke  to  me  with  kindness  and  feeling,  and  did  not 
introduce  the  subject  of  the  horse.  I  asked  him  whether  he 
thought  I  should  be  in  time  for  the  fair.  "  I  saw  some  people 
making  their  way  thither  to-day,"  said  he;  "the  fair  lasts  three 
weeks,  and  it  has  just  commenced.  Yes,  I  think  I  may  promise 
you  that  you  will  be  in  time  for  the  very  heat  of  it.  In  a  few  days 
you  will  be  able  to  mount  your  saddle  with  your  arm  in  a  sling,  but 
you  must  by  no  means  appear  with  your  arm  in  a  sling  at  Horn- 
castle,  as  people  would  think  that  your  horse  had  flung  you,  and 
that  you  wanted  to  dispose  of  him  because  he  was  a  vicious 
brute.  You  must,  by  all  means,  drop  the  sling  before  you  get  to 
Horncastle." 

For  three  days  I  kept  my  apartment  by  the  advice  of  the 
surgeon.  I  passed  my  time  as  I  best  could.  Stretched  on  my 
bed,  I  either  abandoned  myself  to  reflection,  or  listened  to  the 
voices  of  the  birds  in  the  neighbouring  garden.  Sometimes,  as  I 
lay  awake  at  night,  I  would  endeavour  to  catch  the  tick  of  a  clock, 
which  methought  sounded  from  some  distant  part  of  the  house. 

The  old  man  visited  me  twice  or  thrice  every  day  to  inquire 
into  my  state.  His  words  were  few  on  these  occasions,  and  he  did 
not  stay  long.  Yet  his  voice  and  his  words  were  kind.  What 
surprised  me  most  in  connection  with  this  individual  was,  the 
delicacy  of  conduct  which  he  exhibited  in  not  letting  a  word  pro- 
ceed from  his  lips  which  could  testify  curiosity  respecting  who  I 
was,  or  whence  I  came.  All  he  knew  of  me  was,  that  I  had  been 
flung  from  my  horse  on  my  way  to  a  fair  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 


i8*5-]  UNPRETENDING  HOSPITALITY.  187 

posing  of  the  animal,  and  that  I  was  now  his  guest.  I  might  be 
a  common  horse-dealer  for  what  he  knew,  yet  I  was  treated  by  him 
with  all  the  attention  which  I  could  have  expected,  had  I  been  an 
alderman  of  Boston's  heir,  and  known  to  him  as  such.  The 
county  in  which  I  am  now,  thought  I  at  last,  must  be  either  ex- 
traordinarily devoted  to  hospitality,  or  this  old  host  of  mine  must 
be  an  extraordinary  individual.  On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day, 
feeling  tired  of  my  confinement,  I  put  my  clothes  on  in  the  best 
manner  I  could,  and  left  the  chamber.  Descending  a  flight  of 
stairs,  I  reached  a  kind  of  quadrangle,  from  which  branched  two 
or  three  passages ;  one  of  these  I  entered,  which  had  a  door  at  the 
farther  end,  and  one  on  each  side ;  the  one  to  the  left  standing 
partly  open,  I  entered  it,  and  found  myself  in  a  middle-sized  room 
with  a  large  window,  or  rather  glass  door,  which  looked  into  a 
garden,  and  which  stood  open.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in 
this  room,  except  a  large  quantity  of  china.  There  was  china  on 
the  mantelpiece,  china  on  two  tables,  and  a  small  beaufet,  which 
stood  opposite  the  glass  door,  was  covered  with  china  ;  there  were 
cups,  teapots  and  vases  of  various  forms,  and  on  all  of  them  I 
observed  characters — not  a  teapot,  not  a  teacup,  not  a  vase  of 
whatever  form  or  size,  but  appeared  to  possess  hieroglyphics  on 
some  part  or  other.  After  surveying  these  articles  for  some  time 
with  no  little  interest,  I  passed  into  the  garden,  in  which  there 
were  small  parterres  of  flowers,  and  two  or  three  trees,  and  which, 
where  the  house  did  not  abut,  was  bounded  by  a  wall ;  turning  to 
the  right  by  a  walk  by  the  side  of  the  house,  I  passed  by  a  door — 
probably  the  one  I  had  seen  at  the  end  of  the  passage — and  arrived 
at  another  window  similar  to  that  through  which  I  had  come,  and 
which  also  stood  open ;  I  was  about  to  pass  by  it,  when  I  heard 
the  voice  of  my  entertainer  exclaiming  :  "  Is  that  you  ?  pray  come 
in." 

I  entered  the  room,  which  seemed  to  be  a  counterpart  of  the 
one  which  I  had  just  left.  It  was  of  the  same  size,  had  the  same 
kind  of  furniture,  and  appeared  to  be  equally  well  stocked  with 
china ;  one  prominent  article  it  possessed,  however,  which  the  other 
room  did  not  exhibit — namely,  a  clock,  which,  with  its  pendulum 
moving  tick-a-tick,  hung  against  the  wall  opposite  to  the  door,  the 
sight  of  which  made  me  conclude  that  the  sound  which  methought 
I  had  heard  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  was  not  an  imaginary  one. 
There  it  hung  on  the  wall,  with  its  pendulum  moving  tick-a-tick. 
The  old  gentleman  was  seated  in  an  easy-chair  a  little  way  into  the 
room,  having  the  glass  door  on  his  right  hand.  On  a  table  before 
him  lay  a  large  open  volume,  in  which  I  observed  Roman  letters 


i88  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

as  well  as  characters.  A  few  inches  beyond  the  book  on  the  table, 
covered  all  over  with  hieroglyphics,  stood  a  china  vase.  The  eyes 
of  the  old  man  were  fixed  upon  it. 

"Sit  down,"  said  he,  motioning  me  with  his  hand  to  a  stool 
close  by,  but  without  taking  his  eyes  from  the  vase. 

"  I  can't  make  it  out,"  said  he  at  last,  removing  his  eyes  from 
the  vase,  and  leaning  back  on  the  chair,  "  I  can't  make  it  out." 

"  I  wish  I  could  assist  you,"  said  I. 

"Assist  me,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  at  me  with  a  half 
smile. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "but  I  do  not  understand  Chinese." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  the  old  man,  with  another  slight  smile  ; 
"  but— but " 

"  Pray  proceed,"  said  I. 

"  I  wished  to  ask  you,"  said  the  old  man,  "  how  you  knew  that 
the  characters  on  yon  piece  of  crockery  were  Chinese ;  or,  indeed, 
that  there  was  such  a  language  ?  " 

"  I  knew  the  crockery  was  china,"  said  I,  "  and  naturally 
enough  supposed  what  was  written  upon  it  to  be  Chinese ;  as  for 
there  being  such  a  language — the  English  have  a  language,  the 
French  have  a  language,  and  why  not  the  Chinese?" 

'  May  I  ask  you  a  question  ?  " 

'  As  many  as  you  like." 

'  Do  you  know  any  language  besides  English?  " 

'Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  know  a  little  of  two  or  three." 

'  May  I  ask  their  names  ?  " 

1  Why  not  ?  "  said  I,  "  I  know  a  little  French." 

1  Anything  else  ?  " 

'Yes,  a  little  Welsh,  and  a  little  Haik." 

'What  is  Haik?" 

"Armenian." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  in  my  house,"  said  the  old  man, 
shaking  me  by  the  hand  ;  "  how  singular  that  one  coming  as  you 
did  should  know  Armenian." 

"  Not  more  singular,"  said  I,  "  than  that  one  living  in  such  a 
place  as  this  should  know  Chinese.  How  came  you  to  acquire 
it?" 

The  old  man  looked  at  me,  and  sighed.  "  I  beg  pardon," 
said  I,  "  for  asking  what  is,  perhaps,  an  impertinent  question ;  I 
have  not  imitated  your  own  delicacy ;  you  have  never  asked  me 
a  question  without  first  desiring  permission,  and  here  I  have  been 
days  and  nights  in  your  house  an  intruder  on  your  hospitality, 
and  you  have  never  so  much  as  asked  me  who  I  am." 


X825-]  THE  CHINESE  STUDENT.  189 

"  In  forbearing  to  do  that,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  merely 
obeyed  the  Chinese  precept :  '  Ask  no  questions  of  a  guest ' ;  it 
is  written  on  both  sides  of  the  teapot  out  of  which  you  have  had 
your  tea." 

"I  wish  I  knew  Chinese,"  said  I.  "Is  it  a  difficult  language 
to  acquire  ?  " 

"  I  have  reason  to  think  so,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  have 
been  occupied  upon  it  five-and-thirty  years,  and  I  am  still  very 
imperfectly  acquainted  with  it ;  at  least,  I  frequently  find  upon 
my  crockery  sentences  the  meaning  of  which  to  me  is  very  dark, 
though  it  is  true  these  sentences  are  mostly  verses,  which  are,  of 
course,  more  difficult  to  understand  than  mere  prose." 

"Are  your  Chinese  studies,"  said  I,  "confined  to  crockery 
literature  ?  " 

"  Entirely,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  I  read  nothing  else." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  I,  "  that  the  Chinese  have  no  letters, 
but  that  for  every  word  they  have  a  separate  character — is  it  so  ?  " 

"  For  every  word  they  have  a  particular  character,"  said  the 
old  man;  "though,  to  prevent  confusion,  they  have  arranged 
their  words  under  two  hundred  and  fourteen  what  we  should  call 
radicals,  but  which  they  call  keys.  As  we  arrange  all  our  words 
in  a  dictionary  under  twenty-four  letters,  so  do  they  arrange  all 
their  words,  or  characters,  under  two  hundred  and  fourteen  radical 
signs ;  the  simplest  radicals  being  the  first,  and  the  more  complex 
the  last." 

"  Does  the  Chinese  resemble  any  of  the  European  languages 
in  words  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  am  scarcely  competent  to  inform  you,"  said  the  old  man ; 
"but  I  believe  not." 

"What  does  that  character  represent ?"  said  I,  pointing  to 
one  on  the  vase. 

"  A  knife,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  that  character  is  one  of  the 
simplest  radicals  or  keys." 

"  And  what  is  the  sound  of  it  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Tau,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Tau,"  said  I;  "tau!" 

"  A  strange  word  for  a  knife  !  is  it  not  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 

"  Tawse  ! "  said  I ;  "  tawse  ! " 

"  What  is  tawse  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 

"  You  were  never  at  school  at  Edinburgh,  I  suppose? " 

"  Never,"  said  the  old  man. 

"That  accounts  for  your  not  knowing  the  meaning  of  tawse," 
said  I ;  "  had  you  received  the  rudiments  of  a  classical  education 


190  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

at  the  High  School,  you  would  have  known  the  meaning  of  tawse 
full  well.  It  is  a  leathern  thong,  with  which  refractory  urchins 
are  recalled  to  a  sense  of  their  duty  by  the  dominie.  Tau — tawse 
— how  singular  ! " 

"I  cannot  see  what  the  two  words  have  in  common,  except  a 
slight  agreement  in  sound." 

"  You  will  see  the  connection,"  said  I,  "  when  I  inform  you 
that  the  thong,  from  the  middle  to  the  bottom,  is  cut  or  slit  into 
two  or  three  parts,  from  which  slits  or  cuts,  unless  I  am  very  much 
mistaken,  it  derives  its  name — tawse,  a  thong  with  slits  or  cuts, 
used  for  chastising  disorderly  urchins  at  the  High  School,  from 
the  French  tattler,  to  cut ;  evidently  connected  with  the  Chinese 
tau,  a  knife — how  very  extraordinary  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Two  days — three  days  passed  away,  and  I  still  remained  at  the 
house  of  my  hospitable  entertainer,  my  bruised  limb  rapidly  re- 
covering the  power  of  performing  its  functions.  I  passed  my 
time  agreeably  enough,  sometimes  in  my  chamber,  communing 
with  my  own  thoughts;  sometimes  in  the  stable,  attending  to, 
and  not  unfrequently  conversing  with,  my  horse ;  and  at  meal- 
time— for  I  seldom  saw  him  at  any  other — discoursing  with  the 
old  gentleman,  sometimes  on  the  Chinese  vocabulary,  sometimes 
on  Chinese  syntax,  and  once  or  twice  on  English  horseflesh, 
though  on  this  latter  subject,  notwithstanding  his  descent  from  a 
race  of  horse-traders,  he  did  not  enter  with  much  alacrity. 
As  a  small  requital  for  his  kindness,  I  gave  him  one  day,  after 
dinner,  unasked,  a  brief  account  of  my  history  and  pursuits.  He 
listened  with  attention,  and  when  it  was  concluded,  thanked  me 
for  the  confidence  which  I  had  reposed  in  him.  "Such  con- 
duct," said  he,  "deserves  a  return.  I  will  tell  you  my  own 
history ;  it  is  brief,  but  may  perhaps  not  prove  uninteresting  to 
you — though  the  relation  of  it  will  give  me  some  pain."  "  Pray, 
then,  do  not  recite  it,"  said  I.  "  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  will 
tell  you,  for  I  wish  you  to  know  it."  He  was  about  to  begin, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  surgeon.  The 
surgeon  examined  into  the  state  of  my  bruised  limb,  and  told  me, 
what  indeed  I  already  well  knew,  that  it  was  rapidly  improving. 
"  You  will  not  even  require  a  sling,"  said  he,  "  to  ride  to  Horn- 
castle.  When  do  you  propose  going?"  he  demanded.  "  When 
do  you  think  I  may  venture?  "  I  replied.  "  I  think,  if  you  are  a 
tolerably  good  horseman,  you  may  mount  the  day  after  to-morrow," 
answered  the  medical  man.  "  By-the-bye,  are  you  acquainted 
with  anybody  at  Horncastle  ?  "  "  With  no  living  soul,"  I  answered. 
"  Then  you  would  scarcely  find  stable-room  for  your  horse.  But 
I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  assist  you.  I  have  a  friend  there  who 
keeps  a  small  inn,  and  who,  during  the  time  of  the  fair,  keeps 
a  stall  vacant  for  any  quadruped  I  may  bring,  until  he  knows 
whether  I  am  coming  or  not.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  him, 
and  he  will  see  after  the  accommodation  of  your  horse.  To- 


I92  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

morrow  I  will  pay  you  a  farewell  visit,  and  bring  you  the  letter." 
"Thank  you,"  said  I;  "and  do  not  forget  to  bring  your  bill." 
The  surgeon  looked  at  the  old  man,  who  gave  him  a  peculiar  nod. 
"Oh!"  said  he,  in  reply  tome,  "  for  the  little  service  I  have 
rendered  you,  I  require  no  remuneration.  You  are  in  my  friend's 
house,  and  he  and  I  understand  each  other."  "  I  never  receive 
such  favours,"  said  I,  "as  you  have  rendered  me,  without  re- 
munerating them;  therefore,  I  shall  expect  your  bill."  "Oh! 
just  as  you  please,"  said  the  surgeon ;  and  shaking  me  by  the 
hand  more  warmly  than  he  had  hitherto  done,  he  took  his  leave. 
On  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  the  last  which  I  spent  with 
my  kind  entertainer,  I  sat  at  tea  with  him  in  a  little  summer-house 
in  his  garden,  partially  shaded  by  the  boughs  of  a  large  fig-tree. 
The  surgeon  had  shortly  before  paid  me  his  farewell  visit,  and  had 
brought  me  the  letter  of  introduction  to  his  friend  at  Horncastle, 
and  also  his  bill,  which  I  found  anything  but  extravagant.  After 
we  had  each  respectively  drank  the  contents  of  two  cups — and  it 
may  not  be  amiss  here  to  inform  the  reader  that  though  I  took 
cream  with  my  tea,  as  I  always  do  when  I  can  procure  that  addi- 
tion, the  old  man,  like  most  people  bred  up  in  the  country,  drank 
his  without  it — he  thus  addressed  me  :  "I  am,  as  I  told  you  on 
the  night  of  your  accident,  the  son  of  a  breeder  of  horses,  a 
respectable  and  honest  man.  When  I  was  about  twenty  he  died, 
leaving  me,  his  only  child,  a  comfortable  property,  consisting  of 
about  two  hundred  acres  of  land  and  some  fifteen  hundred  pounds 
in  money.  My  mother  had  died  about  three  years  previously. 
1  felt  the  death  of  my  mother  keenly,  but  that  of  my  father  less 
than  was  my  duty;  indeed,  truth  compels  me  to  acknowledge 
that  I  scarcely  regretted  his  death.  The  cause  of  this  want  of 
proper  filial  feeling  was  the  opposition  which  I  had  experienced 
from  him  in  an  affair  which  deeply  concerned  me.  I  had  formed 
an  attachment  for  a  young  female  in  the  neighbourhood,  who, 
though  poor,  was  of  highly  respectable  birth,  her  father  having 
been  a  curate  of  the  Established  Church.  She  was,  at  the  time 
of  which  I  am  speaking,  an  orphan,  having  lost  both  her  parents, 
and  supported  herself  by  keeping  a  small  school.  My  attachment 
was  returned,  and  we  had  pledged  our  vows,  but  my  father,  who 
could  not  reconcile  himself  to  her  lack  of  fortune,  forbade  our 
marriage  in  the  most  positive  terms.  He  was  wrong,  for  she  was 
a  fortune  in  herself — amiable  and  accomplished.  Oh !  I  cannot 
tell  you  all  she  was — "  and  here  the  old  man  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes.  "  By  the  death  of  my  father,  the  only  obstacle 
to  our  happiness  appeared  to  be  removed.  We  agreed,  therefore, 


I825-]  THE  OLD  MAN'S  HISTORY.  193 

that  our  marriage  should  take  place  within  the  course  of  a  year, 
and  I  forthwith  commenced  enlarging  my  house  and  getting  my 
affairs  in  order.  Having  been  left  in  the  easy  circumstances 
which  I  have  described,  I  determined  to  follow  no  business,  but 
to  pass  my  life  in  a  strictly  domestic  manner,  and  to  be  very,  very 
happy.  Amongst  other  property  derived  from  my  father  were 
several  horses,  which  I  disposed  of  in  this  neighbourhood,  with 
the  exception  of  two  remarkably  fine  ones,  which  I  determined  to 
take  to  the  next  fair  at  Horncastle,  the  only  place  where  I  expected 
to  be  able  to  obtain  what  I  considered  to  be  their  full  value.  At 
length  the  time  arrived  for  the  commencement  of  the  fair,  which 
was  within  three  months  of  the  period  which  my  beloved  and 
myself  had  fixed  upon  for  the  celebration  of  our  nuptials.  To 
the  fair  I  went,  a  couple  of  trusty  men  following  me  with  the 
horses.  I  soon  found  a  purchaser  for  the  animals,  a  portly, 
plausible  person,  of  about  forty,  dressed  in  a  blue  riding  coat, 
brown  top  boots,  and  leather  breeches.  There  was  a  strange- 
looking  urchin  with  him,  attired  in  nearly  similar  fashion,  with  a 
beam  in  one  of  his  eyes,  who  called  him  father.  The  man  paid 
me  for  the  purchase  in  bank-notes — three  fifty-pound  notes  for 
the  two  horses.  As  we  were  about  to  take  leave  of  each  other,  he 
suddenly  produced  another  fifty-pound  note,  inquiring  whether  I 
could  change  it,  complaining,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  difficulty 
of  procuring  change  in  the  fair.  As  I  happened  to  have  plenty 
of  small  money  in  my  possession,  and  as  I  felt  obliged  to  him  for 
having  purchased  my  horses  at  what  I  considered  to  be  a  good 
price,  I  informed  him  that  I  should  be  very  happy  to  accommo- 
date him ;  so  I  changed  him  the  note,  and  he,  having  taken 
possession  of  the  horses,  went  his  way,  and  I  myself  returned 
home.  "  A  month  passed ;  during  this  time  I  paid  away  two  of 
the  notes  which  I  had  received  at  Horncastle  from  the  dealer — 
one  of  them  in  my  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  the  other  at  a 
town  about  fifteen  miles  distant,  to  which  I  had  repaired  for  the 
purpose  of  purchasing  some  furniture.  All  things  seemed  to  be 
going  on  most  prosperously,  and  I  felt  quite  happy,  when  one 
morning,  as  I  was  overlooking  some  workmen  who  were  employed 
about  my  house,  I  was  accosted  by  a  constable,  who  informed  me 
that  he  was  sent  to  request  my  immediate  appearance  before  a 
neighbouring  bench  of  magistrates.  Concluding  that  I  was  merely 
summoned  on  some  unimportant  business  connected  with  the 
neighbourhood,  I  felt  no  surprise,  and  forthwith  departed  in 
company  with  the  officer.  The  demeanour  of  the  man  upon  the 
way  struck  me  as  somewhat  singular.  I  had  frequently  spoken 

13 


194  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

to  him  before,  and  had  always  found  him  civil  and  respectful, 
but  he  was  now  reserved  and  sullen,  and  replied  to  two  or  three 
questions  which  I  put  to  him  in  anything  but  a  courteous  manner. 
On  arriving  at  the  place  where  the  magistrates  were  sitting — an 
inn  at  a  small  town  about  two  miles  distant — I  found  a  more  than 
usual  number  of  people  assembled,  who  appeared  to  be  conversing 
with  considerable  eagerness.  At  sight  of  me  they  became  silent, 
but  crowded  after  me  as  I  followed  the  man  into  the  magistrates' 
room.  There  I  found  the  tradesman  to  whom  I  had  paid  the 
note  for  the  furniture  at  the  town  fifteen  miles  off  in  attendance, 
accompanied  by  an  agent  of  the  Bank  of  England ;  the  former, 
it  seems,  had  paid  the  note  into  a  provincial  bank,  the  proprietors 
of  which,  discovering  it  to  be  a  forgery,  had  forthwith  written  up 
to  the  Bank  of  England,  who  had  sent  down  their  agent  to  investi 
gate  the  matter.  A  third  individual  stood  beside  them — the 
person  in  my  own  immediate  neighbourhood  to  whom  I  had  paid 
the  second  note ;  this,  by  some  means  or  other,  before  the  coming 
down  of  the  agent,  had  found  its  way  to  the  same  provincial  bank, 
and  also  being  pronounced  a  forgery,  it  had  speedily  been  traced 
to  the  person  to  whom  I  had  paid  it.  It  was  owing  to  the  appari- 
tion of  this  second  note  that  the  agent  had  determined,  without 
further  inquiry,  to  cause  me  to  be  summoned  before  the  rural 
tribunal. 

"  In  a  few  words  the  magistrates'  clerk  gave  me  to  understand 
the  state  of  the  case.  I  was  filled  with  surprise  and  consternation. 
I  knew  myself  to  be  perfectly  innocent  of  any  fraudulent  intention, 
but  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking  it  was  a  matter  fraught 
with  the  greatest  danger  to  be  mixed  up,  however  innocently, 
with  the  passing  of  false  money.  The  law  with  respect  to  forgery 
was  terribly  severe,  and  the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty  occasion- 
ally suffered.  Of  this  I  was  not  altogether  ignorant ;  unfortu- 
nately, however,  in  my  transactions  with  the  stranger,  the  idea  of 
false  notes  being  offered  to  me,  and  my  being  brought  into  trouble 
by  means  of  them,  never  entered  my  mind.  Recovering  myself 
a  little,  I  stated  that  the  notes  in  question  were  two  of  three  notes 
which  I  had  received  at  Horncastle,  for  a  pair  of  horses,  which 
it  was  well  known  I  had  carried  thither. 

"Thereupon,  I  produced  from  my  pocket-book  the  third  note, 
which  was  forthwith  pronounced  a  forgery.  I  had  scarcely  pro- 
duced the  third  note,  when  I  remembered  the  one  which  I  had 
changed  for  the  Horncastle  dealer,  and  with  the  remembrance 
came  the  almost  certain  conviction  that  it  was  also  a  forgery ;  I 
was  tempted  for  a  moment  to  produce  it,  and  to  explain  the  cir- 


1825.]  HISTORY  CONTINUED.  195 

cumstance — would  to  God  I  had  done  so  ! — but  shame  at  the  idea 
of  having  been  so  wretchedly  duped  prevented  me,  and  the 
opportunity  was  lost.  I  must  confess  that  the  agent  of  the  bank 
behaved,  upon  the  whole,  in  a  very  handsome  manner ;  he  said 
that  as  it  was  quite  evident  that  I  had  disposed  of  certain  horses 
at  the  fair,  it  was  very  possible  that  I  might  have  received  the 
notes  in  question  in  exchange  for  them,  and  that  he  was  willing, 
as  he  had  received  a  very  excellent  account  of  my  general  conduct, 

to  press  the  matter  no  further,  that  is,  provided "     And  here 

he  stopped.  Thereupon,  one  of  the  three  magistrates  who  were 
present  asked  me  whether  I  chanced  to  have  any  more  of  these 
spurious  notes  in  my  possession.  He  certainly  had  a  right  to  ask 
the  question ;  but  there  was  something  peculiar  in  his  tone — 
insinuating  suspicion.  It  is  certainly  difficult  to  judge  of  the 
motives  which  rule  a  person's  conduct,  but  I  cannot  help  imagin- 
ing that  he  was  somewhat  influenced  in  his  behaviour  on  that 
occasion,  which  was  anything  but  friendly,  by  my  having  refused 
to  sell  him  the  horses  at  a  price  less  than  that  which  I  expected 
to  get  at  the  fair ;  be  this  as  it  may,  the  question  filled  me  with 
embarrassment,  and  I  bitterly  repented  not  having  at  first  been  more 
explicit.  Thereupon  the  magistrate,  in  the  same  kind  of  tone, 
demanded  to  see  my  pocket-book.  I  knew  that  to  demur  would 
be  useless,  and  produced  it,  and  therewith,  amongst  two  or  three 
small  country  notes,  appeared  the  fourth  which  I  had  received 
from  the  Horncastle  dealer.  The  agent  took  it  up  and  examined 
it  with  attention.  '  Well,  is  it  a  genuine  note  ? '  asked  the  magis- 
trate. .  '  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  not,'  said  the  agent ;  '  it  is  a 
forgery,  like  the  other  three.'  The  magistrate  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  as  indeed  did  several  people  in  the  room.  '  A  regular 
dealer  in  forged  notes,'  said  a  person  close  behind  me  ;  '  who 
would  have  thought  it?' 

"  Seeing  matters  begin  to  look  so  serious,  I  aroused  myself,  and 
endeavoured  to  speak  in  my  own  behalf,  giving  a  candid  account 
of  the  manner  in  which  I  became  possessed  of  the  notes,  but  my 
explanation  did  not  appear  to  meet  much  credit.  The  magistrate, 
to  whom  I  have  in  particular  alluded,  asked,  why  I  had  not  at 
once  stated  the  fact  of  my  having  received  a  fourth  note ;  and  the 
agent,  though  in  a  very  quiet  tone,  observed  that  he  could  not  help 
thinking  it  somewhat  strange  that  I  should  have  changed  a  note  of 
so  much  value  for  a  perfect  stranger,  even  supposing  that  he  had 
purchased  my  horses,  and  had  paid  me  their  value  in  hard  cash ; 
and  I  noticed  that  he  laid  particular  emphasis  on  the  last  words. 
I  might  have  observed  that  I  was  an  inexperienced  young  man, 


196  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

who,  meaning  no  harm  myself,  suspected  none  in  others,  but  I 
was  confused,  stunned,  and  my  tongue  seemed  to  cleave  to  the 
roof  of  my  mouth.  The  men  who  had  taken  my  horses  to  Horn- 
castle,  and  for  whom  I  had  sent,  as  they  lived  close  at  hand,  now 
arrived,  but  the  evidence  which  they  could  give  was  anything  but 
conclusive  in  my  favour ;  they  had  seen  me  in  company  with  an 
individual  at  Horncastle,  to  whom,  by  my  orders,  they  had  de- 
livered certain  horses,  but  they  had  seen  no  part  of  the  money 
transaction;  the  fellow,  whether  from  design  or  not,  having 
taken  me  aside  into  a  retired  place,  where  he  had  paid  me 
three  spurious  notes,  and  induced  me  to  change  the  fourth, 
which  throughout  the  affair  was  what  bore  most  materially  against 
me.  How  matters  might  have  terminated  I  do  not  know ;  I  might 

have  gone  to  prison,  and  I  might  have  been Just  then,  when 

I  most  needed  a  friend,  and  least  expected  to  find  one,  for  though 
amongst  those  present  there  were  several  who  were  my  neighbours, 
and  who  had  professed  friendship  for  me,  none  of  them  when  they 
saw  that  I  needed  support  and  encouragement,  came  forward  to  yield 
me  any,  but,  on  the  contrary,  appeared  by  their  looks  to  enjoy  my 
terror  and  confusion — just  then  a  friend  entered  the  room  in  the 
person  of  the  surgeon  of  the  neighbourhood,  the  father  of  him 
who  has  attended  you ;  he  was  not  on  very  intimate  terms  with 
me,  but  he  had  occasionally  spoken  to  me,  and  had  attended  my 
father  in  his  dying  illness,  and  chancing  to  hear  that  I  was  in 
trouble,  he  now  hastened  to  assist  me.  After  a  short  preamble, 
in  which  he  apologised  to  the  bench  for  interfering,  he  begged  to 
be  informed  of  the  state  of  the  case,  whereupon  the  matter  was 
laid  before  him  in  all  its  details.  He  was  not  slow  in  taking  a  fair 
view  of  it,  and  spoke  well  and  eloquently  in  my  behalf,  insisting 
on  the  improbability  that  a  person  of  my  habits  and  position  would 
be  wilfully  mixed  up  with  a  transaction  like  that  of  which  it  appeared 
I  was  suspected,  adding,  that  as  he  was  fully  convinced  of  my 
innocence,  he  was  ready  to  enter  into  any  surety  with  respect  to 
my  appearance  at  any  time  to  answer  anything  which  might  be 
laid  to  my  charge.  This  last  observation  had  particular  effect,  and 
as  he  was  a  person  universally  respected,  both  for  his  skill  in  his 
profession  and  his  general  demeanour,  people  began  to  think  that 
a  person  in  whom  he  took  an  interest  could  scarcely  be  concerned 
in  anything  criminal,  and  though  my  friend  the  magistrate — I  call 
him  so  ironically — made  two  or  three  demurs,  it  was  at  last  agreed 
between  him  and  his  brethren  of  the  bench,  that,  for  the  present,  I 
should  be  merely  called  upon  to  enter  into  my  own  recognisance 
for  the  sum  of  two  hundred  pounds,  to  appear  whenever  it  should 


1825.]  HISTORY  CONTINUED.  197 

be  deemed  requisite  to  enter  into  any  further  investigation  of  the 
matter. 

"  So  I  was  permitted  to  depart  from  the  tribunal  of  petty  justice 
without  handcuffs,  and  uncollared  by  a  constable;  but  people 
looked  coldly  and  suspiciously  upon  me.  The  first  thing  I  did 
was  to  hasten  to  the  house  of  my  beloved,  in  order  to  inform  her 
of  every  circumstance  attending  the  transaction.  I  found  her,  but 
how  ?  A  malicious  female  individual  had  hurried  to  her  with  a 
distorted  tale,  to  the  effect  that  I  had  been  taken  up  as  an  utterer 
of  forged  notes ;  that  an  immense  number  had  been  found  in  my 
possession ;  that  I  was  already  committed,  and  that  probably  I 
should  be  executed.  My  affianced  one  tenderly  loved  me,  and  her 
constitution  was  delicate ;  fit  succeeded  fit ;  she  broke  a  blood- 
vessel, and  I  found  her  deluged  in  blood ;  the  surgeon  had  just 
been  sent  for;  he  came  and  afforded  her  every  possible  relief. 
I  was  distracted;  he  bade  me  have  hope,  but  I  observed  he 
looked  very  grave. 

"  By  the  skill  of  the  surgeon,  the  poor  girl  was  saved  in  the 
first  instance  from  the  arms  of  death,  and  for  a  few  weeks  she 
appeared  to  be  rapidly  recovering ;  by  degrees,  however,  she  be- 
came melancholy ;  a  worm  preyed  upon  her  spirit ;  a  slow  fever 
took  possession  of  her  frame.  I  subsequently  learned  that  the 
same  malicious  female  who  had  first  carried  to  her  an  exaggerated 
account  of  the  affair,  and  who  was  a  distant  relative  of  her  own, 
frequently  visited  her,  and  did  all  in  her  power  to  excite  her  fears 
with  respect  to  its  eventual  termination.  Time  passed  on  in  a 
very  wretched  manner,  our  friend  the  surgeon  showing  to  us  both 
every  mark  of  kindness  and  attention. 

"  It  was  owing  to  this  excellent  man  that  my  innocence  was 
eventually  established.  Having  been  called  to  a  town  on  the  borders 
of  Yorkshire  to  a  medical  consultation,  he  chanced  to  be  taking  a 
glass  of  wine  with  the  landlord  of  the  inn  at  which  he  stopped, 
when  the  waiter  brought  in  a  note  to  be  changed,  saying,  '  That 
the  Quaker  gentleman,  who  had  been  for  some  days  in  the  house, 
and  was  about  to  depart,  had  sent  it  to  be  changed,  in  order  that 
he  might  pay  his  bill'.  The  landlord  took  the  note,  and  looked 
at  it.  '  A  fifty-pound  bill,'  said  he ;  '  I  don't  like  changing  bills  of 
that  amount,  lest  they  should  prove  bad  ones  ;  however,  as  it  comes 
from  a  Quaker  gentleman,  I  suppose  it  is  all  right.'  The  mention 
of  a  fifty-pound  note  aroused  the  attention  of  my  friend,  and  he 
requested  to  be  permitted  to  look  at  it ;  he  had  scarcely  seen  it, 
when  he  was  convinced  that  it  was  one  of  the  same  description  as 
those  which  had  brought  me  into  trouble,  as  it  corresponded  with 


i98  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

them  in  two  particular  features,  which  the  agent  of  the  bank  had 
pointed  out  to  him  and  others  as  evidence  of  their  spuriousness. 
My  friend,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  informed  the  landlord 
that  the  note  was  a  bad  one,  expressing  at  the  same  time  a  great 
wish  to  see  the  Quaker  gentleman  who  wanted  to  have  it  changed. 
'That  you  can  easily  do,'  said  the  landlord,  and  forthwith  con- 
ducted him  into  the  common  room,  where  he  saw  a  respectable- 
looking  man,  dressed  like  a  Quaker,  and  seemingly  about  sixty 
years  of  age. 

"  My  friend,  after  a  short  apology,  showed  him  the  note  which 
he  held  in  his  hand,  stating  that  he  had  no  doubt  it  was  a  spurious 
one,  and  begged  to  be  informed  where  he  had  taken  it,  adding,  that  a 
particular  friend  of  his  was  at  present  in  trouble,  owing  to  his  having 
taken  similar  notes  from  a  stranger  at  Horncastle ;  but  that  he  hoped 
that  he,  the  Quaker,  could  give  information,  by  means  of  which  the 
guilty  party,  or  parties,  could  be  arrested.  At  the  mention  of  Horn- 
castle,  it  appeared  to  my  friend  that  the  Quaker  gave  a  slight  start. 
At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  however,  he  answered  with  great 
tranquillity,  that  he  had  received  it  in  the  way  of  business  at  - 
naming  one  of  the  principal  towns  in  Yorkshire,  from  a  very 
respectable  person,  whose  name  he  was  perfectly  willing  to 
communicate,  and  likewise  his  own,  which  he  said  was  James, 
and  that  he  was  a  merchant  residing  at  Liverpool ;  that  he  would 

write  to  his  friend  at ,  requesting  him  to  make  inquiries  on 

the  subject ;  that  just  at  that  moment  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  depart, 
having  some  particular  business  at  a  town  about  ten  miles  off,  to 
go  to  which  he  had  bespoken  a  post-chaise  of  the  landlord ;  that 
with  respect  to  the  note,  it  was  doubtless  a  very  disagreeable  thing 
to  have  a  suspicious  one  in  his  possession,  but  that  it  would  make 
little  difference  to  him,  as  he  had  plenty  of  other  money,  and 
thereupon  he  pulled  out  a  purse,  containing  various  other  notes, 
and  some  gold,  observing,  '  that  his  only  motive  for  wishing  to 
change  the  other  note  was  a  desire  to  be  well  provided  with 
change ' ;  and  finally,  that  if  they  had  any  suspicion  with  respect 
to  him,  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  leave  the  note  in  their  possession 
till  he  should  return,  which  he  intended  to  do  in  about  a  fortnight. 
There  was  so  much  plausibility  in  the  speech  of  the  Quaker,  and 
his  appearance  and  behaviour  were  so  perfectly  respectable,  that 
my  friend  felt  almost  ashamed  of  the  suspicion  which  at  first  he 
had  entertained  of  him,  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  felt  an  un- 
accountable unwillingness  to  let  the  man  depart  without  some 
further  interrogation.  The  landlord,  however,  who  did  not  wish 
to  disoblige  one  who  had  been,  and  might  probably  be  again,  a 


1825.]  HISTORY  CONCLUDED.  igg 

profitable  customer,  declared  that  he  was  perfectly  satisfied,  and 
that  he  had  no  wish  to  detain  the  note,  which  he  made  no 
doubt  the  gentleman  had  received  in  the  way  of  business,  and  that 
as  the  matter  concerned  him  alone,  he  would  leave  it  to  him  to 
make  the  necessary  inquiries.  '  Just  as  you  please,  friend,'  said 
the  Quaker,  pocketing  the  suspicious  note ;  '  I  will  now  pay  my 
bill.'  Thereupon  he  discharged  the  bill  with  a  five-pound  note, 
which  he  begged  the  landlord  to  inspect  carefully,  and  with  two 
pieces  of  gold. 

"The  landlord  had  just  taken  the  money,  receipted  the  bill, 
and  was  bowing  to  his  customer,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  lad, 
dressed  in  a  kind  of  grey  livery,  appeared,  and  informed  the 
Quaker  that  the  chaise  was  ready.  *  Is  that  boy  your  servant  ? ' 
said  the  surgeon.  '  He  is,  friend/  said  the  Quaker.  '  Hast  thou 
any  reason  for  asking  me  that  question  ?  '  '  And  has  he  been  long 
in  your  service  ?'  *  Several  years,'  replied  the  Quaker;  'I  took  him 
into  my  house  out  of  compassion,  he  being  an  orphan,  but  as  the 
chaise  is  waiting,  I  will  bid  thee  farewell.'  '  I  am  afraid  I  must 
stop  your  journey  for  the  present/  said  the  surgeon ;  '  that  boy  has 
exactly  the  same  blemish  in  the  eye  which  a  boy  had  who  was  in 
company  with  the  man  at  Horncastle,  from  whom  my  friend  re- 
ceived the  forged  notes,  and  who  there  passed  for  his  son.'  *  I 
know  nothing  about  that/  said  the  Quaker,  *  but  I  am  determined 
to  be  detained  here  no  longer,  after  the  satisfactory  account  which 
I  have  given  as  to  the  note's  coming  into  my  possession.'  He  then 
attempted  to  leave  the  room,  but  my  friend  detained  him,  a  struggle 
ensued,  during  which  a  wig  which  the  Quaker  wore  fell  off,  where- 
upon he  instantly  appeared  to  lose  some  twenty  years  of  his  age. 
'  Knock  the  fellow  down,  father/  said  the  boy ;  '  I'll  help  you.' 

"  And,  forsooth,  the  pretended  Quaker  took  the  boy's  advice, 
and  knocked  my  friend  down  in  a  twinkling.  The  landlord,  how- 
ever, and  waiter,  seeing  how  matters  stood,  instantly  laid  hold  of 
him  ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  would  have  escaped  from 
the  whole  three,  had  not  certain  guests  who  were  in  the  house 
hearing  the  noise,  rushed  in,  and  helped  to  secure  him.  The  boy 
was  true  to  his  word,  assisting  him  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  flinging 
himself  between  the  legs  of  his  father's  assailants,  causing  several 
of  them  to  stumble  and  fall.  At  length,  the  fellow  was  secured, 
and  led  before  a  magistrate ;  the  boy,  to  whom  he  was  heard  to 
say  something  which  nobody  understood,  and  to  whom,  after  the 
man's  capture,  no  one  paid  much  attention,  was  no  more  seen. 

"  The  rest,  as  far  as  this  man  was  concerned,  may  be  told  in  a 
few  words ;  nothing  to  criminate  him  was  found  on  his  person,  but 


200  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

on  his  baggage  being  examined,  a  quantity  of  spurious  notes  was 
discovered.  Much  of  his  hardihood  now  forsook  him,  and  in  the 
hope  of  saving  his  life  he  made  some  very  important  disclosures ; 
amongst  other  things,  he  confessed  that  it  was  he  who  had  given 
me  the  notes  in  exchange  for  the  horses,  and  also  the  note  to  be 
changed.  He  was  subsequently  tried  on  two  indictments,  in  the 
second  of  which  I  appeared  against  him.  He  was  condemned  to 
die ;  but,  in  consideration  of  the  disclosures  he  had  made,  his 
sentence  was  commuted  to  perpetual  transportation. 

"  My  innocence  was  thus  perfectly  established  before  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  and  all  my  friends  hastened  to  congratulate  me. 
There  was  one  who  congratulated  me  more  than  all  the  rest — it 
was  my  beloved  one,  but — but — she  was  dying " 

Here  the  old  man  drew  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  and  remained 
for  some  time  without  speaking ;  at  length  he  removed  his  hand, 
and  commenced  again  with  a  broken  voice  :  "  You  will  pardon  me 
if  I  hurry  over  this  part  of  my  story ;  I  am  unable  to  dwell  upon 
it.  How  dwell  upon  a  period  when  I  saw  my  only  earthly 
treasure  pine  away  gradually  day  by  day,  and  knew  that  nothing 
could  save  her !  She  saw  my  agony,  and  did  all  she  could  to 
console  me,  saying  that  she  was  herself  quite  resigned.  A  little 
time  before  her  death  she  expressed  a  wish  that  we  should  be  united. 
I  was  too  happy  to  comply  with  her  request.  We  were  united,  I 
brought  her  to  this  house,  where,  in  less  than  a  week,  she  expired 
in  my  arms." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

AFTER  another  pause,  the  old  man  once  more  resumed  his  narra- 
tion :  "  If  ever  there  was  a  man  perfectly  miserable  it  was  myself, 
after  the  loss  of  that  cherished  woman.  I  sat  solitary  in  the  house, 
in  which  I  had  hoped  in  her  company  to  realise  the  choicest  earthly 
happiness,  a  prey  to  the  bitterest  reflections ;  many  people  visited, 
and  endeavoured  to  console  me.  Amongst  them  was  the  clergyman 
of  the  parish,  who  begged  me  to  be  resigned,  and  told  me  that  it 
was  good  to  be  afflicted.  I  bowed  my  head,  but  I  could  not  help 
thinking  how  easy  it  must  be  for  those  who  feel  no  affliction  to  bid 
others  to  be  resigned,  and  to  talk  of  the  benefit  resulting  from 
sorrow ;  perhaps  I  should  have  paid  more  attention  to  his  dis- 
course than  I  did,  provided  he  had  been  a  person  for  whom  it 
was  possible  to  entertain  much  respect,  but  his  own  heart  was 
known  to  be  set  on  the  things  of  this  world. 

"  Within  a  little  time  he  had  an  opportunity,  in  his  own  case, 
of  practising  resignation,  and  of  realising  the  benefit  of  being 
afflicted.  A  merchant,  to  whom  he  had  entrusted  all  his  fortune, 
in  the  hope  of  a  large  interest,  became  suddenly  a  bankrupt,  with 
scarcely  any  assets.  I  will  not  say  that  it  was  owing  to  this  mis- 
fortune that  the  divine  died  in  less  than  a  month  after  its  occur- 
rence, but  such  was  the  fact.  Amongst  those  who  most  frequently 
visited  me  was  my  friend  the  surgeon  ;  he  did  not  confine  himself 
to  the  common  topics  of  consolation,  but  endeavoured  to  impress 
upon  me  the  necessity  of  rousing  myself,  advising  me  to  occupy 
my  mind  with  some  pursuit,  particularly  recommending  agriculture ; 
but  agriculture  possessed  no  interest  for  me,  nor",  indeed,  any 
pursuit  within  my  reach ;  my  hopes  of  happiness  had  been  blighted, 
and  what  cared  I  for  anything  ?  so  at  last  he  thought  it  best  to 
leave  me  to  myself,  hoping  that  time  would  bring  with  it  consola- 
tion ;  and  I  remained  solitary  in  my  house,  waited  upon  by  a 
male  and  a  female  servant.  Oh,  what  dreary  moments  I  passed  ! 
My  only  amusement — and  it  was  a  sad  one — was  to  look  at  the 
things  which  once  belonged  to  my  beloved,  and  which  were  now 
in  my  possession.  Oh,  how  fondly  would  I  dwell  upon  them  ! 
There  were  some  books ;  I  cared  not  for  books,  but  these  had 

(201) 


202  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

belonged  to  my  beloved.  Oh,  how  fondly  did  I  dwell  on  them  j 
Then  there  was  her  hat  and  bonnet — oh,  me,  how  fondly  did  I 
gaze  upon  them !  and  after  looking  at  her  things  for  hours,  I 
would  sit  and  ruminate  on  the  happiness  I  had  lost.  How  I 
execrated  the  moment  I  had  gone  to  the  fair  to  sell  horses ! 
'  Would  that  I  had  never  been  at  Horncastle  to  sell  horses ! '  I 
would  say ;  'I  might  at  this  moment  have  been  enjoying  the 
company  of  my  beloved,  leading  a  happy,  quiet,  easy  life,  but  for 
that  fatal  expedition  ; '  that  thought  worked  on  my  brain,  till  my 
brain  seemed  to  turn  round. 

"  One  day  I  sat  at  the  breakfast-table  gazing  vacantly  around 
me ;  my  mind  was  in  a  state  of  inexpressible  misery  ;  there  was  a 
whirl  in  my  brain,  probably  like  that  which  people  feel  who  are 
rapidly  going  mad;  this  increased  to  such  a  degree  that  I  felt 
giddiness  coming  upon  me.  To  abate  this  feeling  I  no  longer 
permitted  my  eyes  to  wander  about,  but  fixed  them  upon  an 
object  on  the  table,  and  continued  gazing  at  it  for  several  minutes 
without  knowing  what  it  was ;  at  length,  the  misery  in  my  head 
was  somewhat  stilled,  my  lips  moved,  and  I  heard  myself  saying, 
'  What  odd  marks  ! '  I  had  fastened  my  eyes  on  the  side  of  a 
teapot,  and  by  keeping  them  fixed  upon  it,  had  become  aware  of 
a  fact  that  had  escaped  my  notice  before — namely,  that  there 
were  marks  upon  it.  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  them,  and 
repeated  at  intervals,  '  What  strange  marks ! '  for  I  thought 
that  looking  upon  the  marks  tended  to  abate  the  whirl  in  my 
head.  I  kept  tracing  the  marks  one  after  the  other,  and  I  ob- 
served that  though  they  all  bore  a  general  resemblance  to  each 
other,  they  were  all  to  a  certain  extent  different.  The  smallest 
portion  possible  of  curious  interest  had  been  awakened  within 
me,  and,  at  last,  I  asked  myself,  within  my  own  mind :  *  What 
motive  could  induce  people  to  put  such  odd  marks  on  their 
crockery  ?  They  were  not  pictures,  they  were  not  letters ;  what 
motive  could  people  have  for  putting  them  there  ? '  At  last,  I 
removed  my  eyes  from  the  teapot,  and  thought  for  a  few  moments 
about  the  marks ;  presently,  however,  I  felt  the  whirl  returning ; 
the  marks  became  almost  effaced  from  my  mind,  and  I  was  be- 
ginning to  revert  to  my  miserable  ruminations,  when  suddenly 
methought  I  heard  a  voice  say  :  *  The  marks !  the  marks !  cling 

to  the  marks !  or  '     So  I  fixed  my  eyes  again  upon  the 

marks,  inspecting  them  more  attentively,  if  possible,  than  I  had 
done  before,  and,  at  last,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
not  capricious  or  fanciful  marks,  but  were  arranged  systematically  ; 
when  I  had  gazed  at  them  for  a  considerable  time,  I  turned  the 


1825.]  THE  STRANGE  MARKS.  203 

teapot  round,  and  on  the  other  side  I  observed  marks  of  a  similar 
kind,  which  I  soon  discovered  were  identical  with  the  ones  I  had 
been  observing.  All  the  marks  were  something  alike,  but  all 
somewhat  different,  and  on  comparing  them  with  each  other,  I 
was  struck  with  the  frequent  occurrence  of  a  mark  crossing  an 
upright  line,  or  projecting  from  it,  now  on  the  right,  now  on  the 
left  side;  and  I  said  to  myself:  *  Why  does  this  mark  sometimes 
cross  the  upright  line,  and  sometimes  project  ? '  and  the  more  I 
thought  on  the  matter,  the  less  did  I  feel  of  the  misery  in  my 
head. 

"  The  things  were  at  length  removed,  and  I  sat,  as  I  had  for 
some  time  past  been  wont  to  sit  after  my  meals,  silent  and  motion- 
less ;  but  in  the  present  instance  my  mind  was  not  entirely  aban- 
doned to  the  one  mournful  idea  which  had  so  long  distressed  it. 
It  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  occupied  with  the  marks  on  the  teapot ; 
it  is  true  that  the  mournful  idea  strove  hard  with  the  marks  on 
the  teapot  for  the  mastery  in  my  mind,  and  at  last  the  painful  idea 
drove  the  marks  of  the  teapot  out ;  they,  however,  would  occasion- 
ally return  and  flit  across  my  mind  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  their 
coming  was  like  a  momentary  relief  from  intense  pain.  I  thought 
once  or  twice  that  I  would  have  the  teapot  placed  before  me,  that 
I  might  examine  the  marks  at  leisure,  but  I  considered  that  it 
would  be  as  well  to  defer  the  re-examination  of  the  marks  till  the 
next  morning ;  at  that  time  I  did  not  take  tea  of  an  evening.  By 
deferring  the  examination  thus,  I  had  something  to  look  forward 
to  on  the  next  morning.  The  day  was  a  melancholy  one,  but  it 
certainly  was  more  tolerable  to  me  than  any  of  the  others  had 
been  since  the  death  of  my  beloved.  As  I  lay  awake  that  night 
I  occasionally  thought  of  the  marks,  and  in  my  sleep  methought 
I  saw  them  upon  the  teapot  vividly  before  me.  On  the  morrow, 
I  examined  the  marks  again  ;  how  singular  they  looked  !  Surely 
they  must  mean  something,  and  if  so,  what  could  they  mean? 
and  at  last  I  thought  within  myself  whether  it  would  be  possible 
for  me  to  make  out  what  they  meant :  that  day  I  felt  more  relief 
than  on  the  preceding  one,  and  towards  night  I  walked  a  little 
about. 

"  In  about  a  week's  time  I  received  a  visit  from  my  friend  the 
surgeon ;  after  a  little  discourse,  he  told  me  that  he  perceived 
I  was  better  than  when  he  had  last  seen  me,  and  asked  me  what 
I  had  been  about ;  I  told  him  that  I  had  been  principally  occupied 
in  considering  certain  marks  which  I  had  found  on  a  teapot,  and 
wondering  what  they  could  mean  ;  he  smiled  at  first,  but  instantly 
assuming  a  serious  look,  he  asked  to  see  the  teapot.  I  produced 


204  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

it,  and  after  having  surveyed  the  marks  with  attention,  he  observed 
that  they  were  highly  curious,  and  also  wondered  what  they  meant. 
'I  strongly  advise  you,'  said  he,  'to  attempt  to  make  them  out, 
and  also  to  take  moderate  exercise,  and  to  see  after  your  concerns.' 
I  followed  his  advice ;  every  morning  I  studied  the  marks  on  the 
teapot,  and  in  the  course  of  the  day  took  moderate  exercise,  and 
attended  to  little  domestic  matters,  as  became  the  master  of  a 
house. 

"  I  subsequently  learned  that  the  surgeon,  in  advising  me  to 
study  the  marks,  and  endeavour  to  make  out  their  meaning, 
merely  hoped  that  by  means  of  them  my  mind  might  by  degrees 
be  diverted  from  the  mournful  idea  on  which  it  had  so  long 
brooded.  He  was  a  man  well  skilled  in  his  profession,  but  had 
read  and  thought  very  little  on  matters  unconnected  with  it.  He 
had  no  idea  that  the  marks  had  any  particular  signification,  or 
were  anything  else  but  common  and  fortuitous  ones.  That  I 
became  at  all  acquainted  with  their  nature  was  owing  to  a  ludi- 
crous circumstance  which  I  will  now  relate. 

"One  day,  chancing  to  be  at  a  neighbouring  town,  I  was 
struck  with  the  appearance  of  a  shop  recently  established.  It  had 
an  immense  bow-window,  and  every  part  of  it,  to  which  a  brush 
could  be  applied,  was  painted  in  a  gaudy  flaming  style.  Large 
bowls  of  green  and  black  tea  were  placed  upon  certain  chests, 
which  stood  at  the  window.  I  stopped  to  look  at  them,  such  a 
display,  whatever  it  may  be  at  the  present  time,  being  at  the 
period  of  which  I  am  speaking,  quite  uncommon  in  a  country 
town.  The  tea,  whether  black  or  green,  was  very  shining  and 
inviting,  and  the  bowls,  of  which  there  were  three,  standing  on 
as  many  chests,  were  very  grand  and  foreign  looking.  Two  of 
these  were  white,  with  figures  and  trees  painted  upon  them  in  blue ; 
the  other,  which  was  the  middlemost,  had  neither  trees  nor  figures 
upon  it,  but  as  I  looked  through  the  window,  appeared  to  have 
on  its  sides  the  very  same  kind  of  marks  which  I  had  observed 
on  the  teapot  at  home  ;  there  were  also  marks  on  the  tea-chests, 
somewhat  similar,  but  much  larger,  and  apparently,  not  executed 
with  so  much  care.  '  Best  teas  direct  from  China,'  said  a  voice 
close  to  my  side  ;  and  looking  round  I  saw  a  youngish  man,  with 
a  frizzled  head,  flat  face,  and  an  immensely  wide  mouth,  standing 
in  his  shirt-sleeves  by  the  door.  *  Direct  from  China,'  said  he ; 
'  perhaps  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  walk  in  and  scent  them  ? ' 
'  I  do  not  want  any  tea,'  said  I ;  '  I  was  only  standing  at  the 
window  examining  those  marks  on  the  bowl  and  the  chests.  I 
have  observed  similar  ones  on  a  teapot  at  home.'  '  Pray  walk  in, 


1825.]  THE  TEA-DEALER.  205 

sir,'  said  the  young  fellow,  extending  his  mouth  till  it  reached 
nearly  from  ear  to  ear ;  '  pray  walk  in,  and  I  shall  be  happy  to 
give  you  any  information  respecting  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  Chinese  in  my  power.'  Thereupon  I  followed  him  into  his 
shop,  where  he  began  to  harangue  on  the  manners,  customs  and 
peculiarities  of  the  Chinese,  especially  their  manner  of  preparing 
tea,  not  forgetting  to  tell  me  that  the  only  genuine  Chinese  tea  ever 
imported  into  England  was  to  be  found  in  his  shop.  '  With 
respect  to  those  marks,'  said  he,  *  on  the  bowl  and  chests,  they  are 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  Chinese  writing,  expressing  something, 
though  what  I  can't  exactly  tell  you.  Allow  me  to  sell  you  this 
pound  of  tea/  he  added,  showing  me  a  paper  parcel.  '  On  the 
envelope  there  is  a  printed  account  of  the  Chinese  system  of 
writing,  extracted  from  authors  of  the  most  established  reputation 
These  things  I  print  principally  with  the  hope  of,  in  some  degree, 
removing  the  worse  than  Gothic  ignorance  prevalent  amongst  the 
natives  of  these  parts.  I  am  from  London  myself.  With  respect 
to  all  that  relates  to  the  Chinese  real  imperial  tea,  I  assure  you 

sir,  that '    Well,  to  make  short  of  what  you  doubtless  consider 

a  very  tiresome  story,  I  purchased  the  tea  and  carried  it  home. 
The  tea  proved  imperially  bad,  but  the  paper  envelope  really 
contained  some  information  on  the  Chinese  language  and  writing, 
amounting  to  about  as  much  as  you  gained  from  me  the  other  day. 
On  learning  that  the  marks  on  the  teapot  expressed  words,  I  felt 
my  interest  with  respect  to  them  considerably  increased  and 
returned  to  the  task  of  inspecting  them  with  greater  zeal  than 
before,  hoping,  by  continually  looking  at  them,  to  be  able  even- 
tually to  understand  their  meaning,  in  which  hope  you  may  easily 
oelieve  I  was  disappointed,  though  my  desire  to  understand  what 
they  represented  continued  on  the  increase.  In  this  dilemma 
I  determined  to  apply  again  to  the  shopkeeper  from  whom  I 
bought  the  tea.  I  found  him  in  rather  low  spirits,  his  shirt-sleeves 
were  soiled,  and  his  hair  was  out  of  curl.  On  my  inquiring  how 
he  got  on,  he  informed  me  that  he  intended  speedily  to  leave, 
having  received  little  or  no  encouragement,  the  people,  in  their 
Gothic  ignorance,  preferring  to  deal  with  an  old-fashioned  shop- 
keeper over  the  way,  who,  so  far  from  possessing  any  acquaintance 
with  the  polity  and  institutions  of  the  Chinese,  did  not,  he  firmly 
believed,  know  that  tea  came  from  China.  'You  are  come  for 
some  more,  I  suppose  ? '  said  he.  On  receiving  an  answer  in  the 
negative  he  looked  somewhat  blank,  but  when  I  added  that  I  came 
to  consult  with  him  as  to  the  means  which  I  must  take  in  order  to 
acquire  the  Chinese  language  he  brightened  up.  '  You  must  get 


206  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

a  grammar,'  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands.  '  Have  you  not  one?' 
said  I.  '  No,'  he  replied,  '  but  any  bookseller  can  procure  you 
one/  As  I  was  taking  my  departure,  he  told  me  that  as  he  was 
about  to  leave  the  neighbourhood,  the  bowl  at  the  window,  which 
bore  the  inscription,  besides  some  other  pieces  of  porcelain  of  a 
similar  description,  were  at  my  service,  provided  I  chose  to  pur- 
chase them.  I  consented,  and  two  or  three  days  afterwards  took 
from  off  his  hands  all  the  china  in  his  possession  which  bore  inscrip- 
tions, paying  what  he  demanded.  Had  I  waited  till  the  sale  of 
his  effects,  which  occurred  within  a  few  weeks,  I  could  probably 
have  procured  it  for  a  fifth  part  of  the  sum  which  I  paid,  the 
other  pieces  realising  very  little.  I  did  not,  however,  grudge  the 
poor  fellow  what  he  got  from  me,  as  I  considered  myself  to  be 
somewhat  in  his  debt  for  the  information  he  had  afforded  me. 

.  "  As  for  the  rest  of  my  story  it  may  be  briefly  told.  I  followed 
the  advice  of  the  shopkeeper,  and  applied  to  a  bookseller  who 
wrote  to  his  correspondent  in  London.  After  a  long  interval,  I 
was  informed  that  if  I  wished  to  learn  Chinese  I  must  do  so  through 
the  medium  of  French,  there  being  neither  Chinese  grammar  nor 
dictionary  in  our  language.  I  was  at  first  very  much  disheartened. 
I  determined,  however,  at  last  to  gratify  my  desire  of  learning 
Chinese,  even  at  the  expense  of  learning  French.  I  procured 
the  books,  and  in  order  to  qualify  myself  to  turn  them  to 
account,  took  lessons  in  French  from  a  little  Swiss,  the  usher  of 
a  neighbouring  boarding-school.  I  was  very  stupid  in  acquiring 
French  ;  perseverance,  however,  enabled  me  to  acquire  a  know- 
ledge sufficient  for  the  object  I  had  in  view.  In  about  two  years 
I  began  to  study  Chinese  by  myself,  through  the  medium  of  the 
French." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "and  how  did  you  get  on  with  the  study  of 
the  Chinese  ?  " 

And  then  the  old  man  proceeded  to  inform  me  how  he  got  on 
with  the  study  of  Chinese,  enumerated  all  the  difficulties  he  had 
had  to  encounter;  dilating  upon  his  frequent  despondency  of  mind, 
and  occasionally  his  utter  despair  of  ever  mastering  Chinese.  He 
told  me  that  more  that  once  he  had  determined  upon  giving  up 
the  study,  but  then  the  misery  in  his  head  forthwith  returned,  to 
escape  from  which  he  had  as  often  resumed  it.  It  appeared, 
however,  that  ten  years  elapsed  before  he  was  able  to  use  ten  of 
the  two  hundred  and  fourteen  keys,  which  serve  to  undo  the 
locks  of  Chinese  writing. 

"  And  are  you  able  at  present  to  use  the  entire  number?"  I 
demanded. 


1825.]  THE  CHINESE  LANGUAGE.  207 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man ;  "I  can  at  present  use  the  whole 
number.  I  know  the  key  for  every  particular  lock,  though  I 
frequently  find  the  wards  unwilling  to  give  way." 

"Has  nothing  particular  occurred  to  you,"  said  I,  "during 
the  time  that  you  have  been  prosecuting  your  studies  ? '' 

"  During  the  whole  time  in  which  I  have  been  engaged  in 
these  studies,"  said  the  old  man,  "  only  one  circumstance  has 
occurred  which  requires  any  particular  mention — the  death  of  my 
old  friend  the  surgeon — who  was  carried  off  suddenly  by  a  fit  of 
apoplexy.  His  death  was  a  great  shock  to  me,  and  for  a  time  in- 
terrupted my  studies.  His  son,  however,  who  succeeded  him, 
was  very  kind  to  me,  and,  in  some  degree,  supplied  his  father's 
place ;  and  I  gradually  returned  to  my  Chinese  locks  and  keys." 

"  And  in  applying  keys  to  the  Chinese  locks  you  employ  your 
time?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  in  making  out  the  inscriptions  on 
the  various  pieces  of  porcelain,  which  I  have  at  different  times 
procured,  I  pass  my  time.  The  first  inscription  which  I  translated 
was  that  on  the  teapot  of  my  beloved." 

"  And  how  many  other  pieces  of  porcelain  may  you  have  at 
present  in  your  possession  ?  " 

"About  fifteen  hundred." 

"  And  how  did  you  obtain  them  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"Without  much  labour,"  said  the  old  man,  "in  the  neigh- 
bouring towns  and  villages — chiefly  at  auctions,  of  which,  about 
twenty  years  ago,  there  were  many  in  these  parts." 

"  And  may  I  ask  your  reasons  for  confining  your  studies 
entirely  to  the  crockery  literature  of  China,  when  you  have  all 
the  rest  at  your  disposal? " 

"  The  inscriptions  enable  me  to  pass  my  time,"  said  the  old 
man ;  "  what  more  would  the  whole  literature  of  China  do  ?  " 

"  And  from  those  inscriptions,"  said  I,  "  what  a  book  it  is  in 
your  power  to  make,  whenever  so  disposed.  '  Translations  from 
the  crockery  literature  of  China.'  Such  a  book  would  be  sure  to 
take ;  even  glorious  John  himself  would  not  disdain  to  publish  it." 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  I  have  no  desire  for  literary  distinction," 
said  he  ;  "no  ambition.  My  original  wish  was  to  pass  my  life  in 
easy,  quiet  obscurity,  with  her  whom  I  loved.  I  was  disappointed 
in  my  wish  ;  she  was  removed,  who  constituted  my  only  felicity 
in  this  life ;  desolation  came  to  my  heart,  and  misery  to  my  head. 
To  escape  from  the  latter  I  had  recourse  to  Chinese.  By  degrees 
the  misery  left  my  head,  but  the  desolation  of  the  heart  yet 
remains." 


208  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,"  said  I ;  "  through  the  instrumentality  of 
this  affliction  you  have  learnt  Chinese,  and,  in  so  doing,  learnt  to 
practice  the  duties  of  hospitality.  Who  but  a  man  who  could 
read  Runes  on  a  teapot,  would  have  received  an  unfortunate 
wayfarer  as  you  have  received  me  ? " 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man,  "let  us  hope  that  all  is  for  the 
best.  I  am  by  nature  indolent,  and,  but  for  this  affliction, 
should,  perhaps,  have  hardly  taken  the  trouble  to  do  my  duty  to 
my  fellow-creatures.  I  am  very,  very  indolent,"  said  he,  slightly 
glancing  towards  the  clock ;  "therefore  let  us  hope  that  all  is  for 
the  best ;  but,  oh !  these  trials,  they  are  very  hard  to  bear." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  next  morning,  having  breakfasted  with  my  old  friend,  I  went 
into  the  stable  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  my  depar- 
ture ;  there,  with  the  assistance  of  a  stable  lad,  I  cleaned  and 
caparisoned  my  horse,  and  then,  returning  into  the  house,  I  made 
the  old  female  attendant  such  a  present  as  I  deemed  would  be 
some  compensation  for  the  trouble  I  had  caused.  Hearing  that 
the  old  gentleman  was  in  his  study,  I  repaired  to  him.  "  I  am 
come  to  take  leave  of  you,"  said  I,  "  and  to  thank  you  for  all  the 
hospitality  which  I  have  received  at  your  hands."  The  eyes  of 
the  old  man  were  fixed  steadfastly  on  the  inscription  which  I  had 
found  him  studying  on  a  former  occasion.  "At  length,"  he 
murmured  to  himself,  "  I  have  it — I  think  I  have  it ;  "  and  then, 
looking  at  me,  he  said  :  "  So  you  are  about  to  depart  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  my  horse  will  be  at  the  front  door  in  a  few 
minutes ;  I  am  glad,  however,  before  I  go,  to  find  that  you  have 
mastered  the  inscription." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  believe  I  have  mastered  it ;  it 
seems  to  consist  of  some  verses  relating  to  the  worship  of  the 
Spirit  of  the  Hearth." 

"  What  is  the  Spirit  of  the  Hearth  ?  "  said  I. 

"  One  of  the  many  demons  which  the  Chinese  worship,"  said 
the  old  man ;  "  they  do  not  worship  one  God,  but  many."  And 
then  the  old  man  told  me  a  great  many  highly  interesting  parti- 
culars respecting  the  demon  worship  of  the  Chinese. 

After  the  lapse  of  at  least  half  an  hour  I  said :  "I  must  not 
linger  here  any  longer,  however  willing.  Horncastle  is  distant, 
and  I  wish  to  be  there  to-night.  Pray  can  you  inform  me  what's 
o'clock?" 

The  old  man,  rising,  looked  towards  the  clock  which  hung  on 
the  side  of  the  room  at  his  left  hand,  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
table  at  which  he  was  seated. 

"  I  am  rather  short-sighted,"  said  I,  "  and  cannot  distinguish 
the  numbers  at  that  distance." 

"  It  is  ten  o'clock,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  I  believe  somewhat 
past." 

(209)  14 


2io  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"  A  quarter,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  a  quarter  or " 

"Or?" 

"  Seven  minutes,  or  ten  minutes  past  ten." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  the  old  man  with  a  smile, 
"there  is  one  thing  to  the  knowledge  of  which  I  could  never 
exactly  attain." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  I,  "that  you  do  not  know  what's 
o'clock?" 

"  I  can  give  a  guess,"  said  the  old  man,  "  to  within  a  few 
minutes." 

"  But  you  cannot  tell  the  exact  moment? " 

"  No,"  said  the  old  man. 

11  In  the  name  of  wonder,"  said  I,  "  with  that  thing  there  on 
the  wall  continually  ticking  in  your  ear,  how  comes  it  that  you  do 
not  know  what's  o'clock? " 

"  Why,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  have  contented  myself  with 
giving  a  tolerably  good  guess ;  to  do  more  would  have  been  too 
great  trouble." 

"But  you  have  learnt  Chinese,"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  have  learnt  Chinese." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "I  really  would  counsel  you  to  learn  to  know 
what's  o'clock  as  soon  as  possible.  Consider  what  a  sad  thing  it 
would  be  to  go  out  of  the  world  not  knowing  what's  o'clock.  A 
millionth  part  of  the  trouble  required  to  learn  Chinese  would,  if 
employed,  infallibly  teach  you  to  know  what's  o'clock." 

"I  had  a  motive  for  learning  Chinese,"  said  the  old  man; 
"  the  hope  of  appeasing  the  misery  in  my  head.  With  respect  to 
not  knowing  what's  o'clock,  I  cannot  see  anything  particularly  sad 
in  the  matter.  A  man  may  get  through  the  world  very  creditably 
without  knowing  what's  o'clock.  Yet,  upon  the  whole,  it  is  no 
bad  thing  to  know  what's  o'clock — you,  of  course,  do.  It  would 
be  too  good  a  joke  if  two  people  were  to  be  together,  one  knowing 
Armenian  and  the  other  Chinese,  and  neither  knowing  what's 
o'clock.  I'll  now  see  you  off." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


LEAVING  the  house  of  the  old  man  who  knew  Chinese,  but  could 
not  tell  what  was  o'clock,  I  wended  my  way  to  Horncastle,  which 
I  reached  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  without  having  met  any 
adventure  on  the  way  worthy  of  being  marked  down  in  this  very 
remarkable  history. 

The  town  was  a  small  one,  seemingly  ancient,  and  was  crowded 
with  people  and  horses.  I  proceeded,  without  delay,  to  the  inn 
to  which  my  friend  the  surgeon  had  directed  me.  "  It  is  of  no 
use  coming  here,"  said  two  or  three  ostlers,  as  I  entered  the  yard 
— "all  full — no  room  whatever";  whilst  one  added  in  an  under- 
tone, "That  ere  a'n't  a  bad-looking  horse  ".  "  I  want  to  see  the 
master  of  this  inn/'  said  I,  as  I  dismounted  from  the  horse.  "  See 
the  master,"  said  an  ostler— the  same  who  had  paid  the  negative 
kind  of  compliment  to  the  horse — "a  likely  thing,  truly;  my 
master  is  drinking  wine  with  some  of  the  grand  gentry,  and  can't 
be  disturbed  for  the  sake  of  the  like  of  you."  "  I  bring  a  letter 
to  him,"  said  I,  pulling  out  the  surgeon's  epistle.  "I  wish  you 
would  deliver  it  to  him,"  I  added,  offering  a  half-crown.  "  Oh, 
it's  you,  is  it?"  said  the  ostler,  taking  the  letter  and  the  half- 
crown  ;  my  master  will  be  right  glad  to  see  you  ;  why,  you  ha'n't 
been  here  for  many  a  year ;  I'll  carry  the  note  to  him  at  once." 
And  with  these  words  he  hurried  into  the  house.  "That's  a 
nice  horse,  young  man,"  said  another  ostler ;  "  what  will  you  take 
for  it  ?  "  to  which  interrogation  I  made  no  answer.  "  If  you  wish 
to  sell  him,"  said  the  ostler,  coming  up  to  me,  and  winking  know- 
ingly, "  I  think  I  and  my  partners  might  offer  you  a  summut 
under  seventy  pounds,"  to  which  kind  of  half-insinuated  offer 
I  made  no  reply,  save  by  winking  in  the  same  kind  of  knowing 
manner  in  which  I  had  observed  him  wink.  "  Rather  leary !"  said 
a  third  ostler.  "  Well,  young  man,  perhaps  you  will  drink  to-night 
with  me  and  my  partners,  when  we  can  talk  the  matter  over." 
Before  I  had  time  to  answer,  the  landlord,  a  well-dressed,  good- 
looking  man,  made  his  appearance  with  the  ostler ;  he  bore  the 
letter  in  his  hand.  Without  glancing  at  me,  he  betook  himself 

(2 II) 


312  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

at  once  to  consider  the  horse,  going  round  him  and  observing 
every  point  with  the  utmost  minuteness.  At  last,  after  having  gone 
round  the  horse  three  times,  he  stopped  beside  me,  and  keeping 
his  eyes  on  the  horse,  bent  his  head  towards  his  right  shoulder. 
"That  horse  is  worth  some  money,"  said  he,  turning  towards  me 
suddenly,  and  slightly  touching  me  on  the  arm  with  the  letter 
which  ne  held  in  his  hand  ;  to  which  observation  I  made  no  reply, 
save  by  bending  my  head  towards  the  right  shoulder  as  I  had  seen 
him  do.  "  The  young  man  is  going  to  talk  to  me  and  my  partners 
about  it  to-night,"  said  the  ostler  who  had  expressed  an  opinion  that 
he  and  his  friends  might  offer  me  somewhat  under  seventy  pounds 
for  the  animal.  "  Pooh  !  "  said  the  landlord,  "  the  young  man 
knows  what  he  is  about ;  in  the  meantime,  lead  the  horse  to  the 
reserved  stall,  and  see  well  after  him.  My  friend,"  said  he,  taking 
me  aside  after  the  ostler  had  led  the  animal  away,  "  recommends 
you  to  me  in  the  strongest  manner,  on  which  account  alone  I  take 
you  and  your  horse  in.  I  need  not  advise  you  not  to  be  taken  in, 
as  I  should  say,  by  your  look,  that  you  are  tolerably  awake ;  but 
there  are  queer  hands  at  Horncastle  at  this  time,  and  those  fellows 
of  mine,  you  understand  me  -  — ;  but  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
do  at  present,  so  you  must  excuse  me."  And  thereupon  went 
into  the  house. 

That  same  evening  I  was  engaged  at  least  two  hours  in  the 
stable,  in  rubbing  the  horse  down,  and  preparing  him  for  the  ex- 
hibition which  I  intended  he  should  make  in  the  fair  on  the 
following  day.  The  ostler  to  whom  I  had  given  the  half-crown 
occasionally  assisted  me,  though  he  was  too  much  occupied  by  the 
horses  of  other  guests  to  devote  any  length  of  time  to  the  service 
of  mine ;  he  more  than  once  repeated  to  me  his  firm  conviction 
that  himself  and  partners  could  afford  to  offer  me  summut  for  the 
horse  ;  and  at  a  later  hour  when,  in  compliance  with  his  invitation, 
I  took  a  glass  of  summut  with  himself  and  partners,  in  a  little  room 
surrounded  with  corn-chests,  on  which  we  sat,  both  himself  and 
partners  endeavoured  to  impress  upon  me,  chiefly  by  means  of 
nods  and  winks,  their  conviction  that  they  could  afford  to  give  me 
summut  for  the  horse,  provided  I  were  disposed  to  sell  him ;  in 
return  for  which  intimation,  with  as  many  nods  and  winks  as  they 
had  all  collectively  used,  I  endeavoured  to  impress  upon  them 
my  conviction  that  I  could  get  summut  handsomer  in  the  fair 
than  they  might  be  disposed  to  offer  me,  seeing  as  how — which 
how  I  followed  by  a  wink  and  a  nod,  which  they  seemed  perfectly 
to  understand,  one  or  two  of  them  declaring  that  if  the  case  was 
so  it  made  a  great  deal  of  difference,  and  that  they  did  not  wish 


1825.]  "DON'T  KNOW  THE  COVE."  213 

to  be  any  hindrance  to  me,  more  particularly  as  it  was  quite  clear 
I  had  been  an  ostler  like  themselves. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  I  began  to  think  of  retiring  to  rest. 
On  inquiring  if  there  was  any  place  in  which  I  could  sleep,  I  was 
informed  that  there  was  a  bed  at  my  service,  provided  I  chose  to 
sleep  in  a  two-bedded  room,  one  of  the  beds  of  which  was  engaged 
by  another  gentleman.  I  expressed  my  satisfaction  at  this  arrange- 
ment, and  was  conducted  by  a  maid-servant  up  many  pairs  of 
stairs  to  a  garret,  in  which  were  two  small  beds,  in  one  of  which 
she  gave  me  to  understand  another  gentleman  slept;  he  had, 
however,  not  yet  retired  to  rest ;  I  asked  who  he  was,  but  the 
maid-servant  could  give  me  no  information  about  him,  save  that 
he  was  a  highly  respectable  gentleman,  and  a  friend  of  her  master's. 
Presently,  bidding  me  good-night,  she  left  me  with  a  candle ;  and 
I,  having  undressed  myself  and  extinguished  the  light,  went  to  bed. 
Notwithstanding  the  noises  which  sounded  from  every  part  of  the 
house,  I  was  not  slow  in  falling  asleep,  being  thoroughly  tired.  I 
know  not  how  long  I  might  have  been  in  bed,  perhaps  two  hours, 
when  I  was  partially  awakened  by  a  light  shining  upon  my  face, 
whereupon,  unclosing  my  eyes,  I  perceived  the  figure  of  a  man, 
with  a  candle  in  one  hand,  staring  at  my  face,  whilst  with  the  other 
hand,  he  held  back  the  curtain  of  the  bed.  As  I  have  said  before, 
I  was  only  partially  awakened,  my  power  of  conception  was  con- 
sequently very  confused;  it  appeared  to  me,  however,  that  the 
man  was  dressed  in  a  green  coat ;  that  he  had  curly  brown  or  black 
hair,  and  that  there  was  something  peculiar  in  his  look.  Just  as  I 
was  beginning  to  recollect  myself,  the  curtain  dropped,  and  I  heard, 
or  thought  I  heard,  a  voice  say  :  "  Don't  know  the  cove".  Then 
there  was  a  rustling  like  a  person  undressing,  whereupon  being 
satisfied  that  it  was  my  fellow-lodger,  I  dropped  asleep,  but  was 
awakened  again  by  a  kind  of  heavy  plunge  upon  the  other  bed, 
which  caused  it  to  rock  and  creak,  when  I  observed  that  the  light 
had  been  extinguished,  probably  blown  out,  if  I  might  judge  from 
a  rather  disagreeable  smell  of  burnt  wick  which  remained  in  the 
room,  and  which  kept  me  awake  till  I  heard  my  companion 
breathing  hard,  when,  turning  on  the  other  side,  I  was  again  once 
more  speedily  in  the  arms  of  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

IT  had  been  my  intention  to  be  up  and  doing  early  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  but  my  slumbers  proved  so  profound,  that  I  did  not 
wake  until  about  eight ;  on  arising,  I  again  found  myself  the  sole 
occupant  of  the  apartment,  my  more  alert  companion  having 
probably  risen  at  a  much  earlier  hour.  Having  dressed  myself,  I 
descended,  and  going  to  the  stable,  found  my  horse  under  the 
hands  of  my  friend  the  ostler,  who  was  carefully  rubbing  him 
down.  "There  a'n't  a  better  horse  in  the  fair,"  said  he  to  me, 
"  and  as  you  are  one  of  us,  and  appear  to  be  all  right,  I'll  give  you 
a  piece  of  advice — don't  take  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  for 
him  ;  if  you  mind  your  hits,  you  may  get  it,  for  I  have  known  two 
hundred  given  in  this  fair  for  one  no  better,  if  so  good."  "Well," 
said  I,  "  thank  you  for  your  advice,  which  I  will  take,  and  if 
successful,  will  give  you  'summut'  handsome."  "Thank  you," 
said  the  ostler;  "and  now  let  me  ask  whether  you  are  up  to  all 
the  ways  of  this  here  place  ?  "  "I  have  never  been  here  before," 
said  I,  "but  I  have  a  pair  of  tolerably  sharp  eyes  in  my  head." 
"That  I  see  you  have,"  said  the  ostler,  "but  many  a  body,  with 
as  sharp  a  pair  of  eyes  as  yourn,  has  lost  his  horse  in  this  fair,  for 
want  of  having  been  here  before,  therefore,"  said  he,  "  I'll  give 
you  a  caution  or  two."  Thereupon  the  ostler  proceeded  to  give 
me  at  least  half  a  dozen  cautions,  only  two  of  which  I  shall  relate 
to  the  reader :  the  first,  not  to  stop  to  listen  to  what  any  chance 
customer  might  have  to  say  ;  and  the  last — the  one  on  which  he 
appeared  to  lay  most  stress — by  no  manner  of  means  to  permit  a 
Yorkshireman  to  get  up  into  the  saddle,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  if  you 
do,  it  is  three  to  one  that  he  rides  off  with  the  horse ;  he  can't 
help  it ;  trust  a  cat  amongst  cream,  but  never  trust  a  Yorkshire- 
man on  the  saddle  ot  a  good  horse ;  by-the-bye,"  he  continued, 
"  that  saddle  of  yours  is  not  a  particularly  good  one,  no  more  is 
the  bridle.  A  shabby  saddle  and  bridle  have  more  than  once 
spoiled  the  sale  of  a  good  horse.  I  tell  you  what,  as  you  seem  a 
decent  kind  of  a  young  chap,  I'll  lend  you  a  saddle  and  bridle  of 
my  master's,  almost  bran  new ;  he  won't  object,  I  know,  as  you 
are  a  friend  of  his,  only  you  must  not  forget  your  promise  to 

(214) 


1825.]  HORNCASTLE  FAIR.  315 

come  down  with  'summut  handsome'  after  you  have  sold  the 
animal." 

After  a  slight  breakfast  I  mounted  the  horse,  which,  decked 
out  in  his  borrowed  finery,  really  looked  better  by  a  large  sum  of 
money  than  on  any  former  occasion.  Making  my  way  out  of  the 
yard  of  the  inn,  I  was  instantly  in  the  principal  street  of  the  town, 
up  and  down  which  an  immense  number  of  horses  were  being  ex- 
hibited, some  led,  and  others  with  riders.  "  A  wonderful  small 
quantity  of  good  horses  in  the  fair  this  time ! "  I  heard  a  stout, 
jockey-looking  individual  say,  who  was  staring  up  the  street  with 
his  side  towards  me.  "  Halloo,  young  fellow ! "  said  he,  a  few 
moments  after  I  had  passed,  "whose  horse  is  that?  Stop!  I 
want  to  look  at  him  !  "  Though  confident  that  he  was  addressing 
himself  to  me,  I  took  no  notice,  remembering  the  advice  of  the 
ostler,  and  proceeded  up  the  street.  My  horse  possessed  a  good 
walking  step ;  but  walking,  as  the  reader  knows,  was  not  his  best 
pace,  which  was  the  long  trot,  at  which  I  could  not  well  exercise 
him  in  the  street,  on  account  of  the  crowd  of  men  and  animals ; 
however,  as  he  walked  along,  I  could  easily  perceive  that  he 
attracted  no  slight  attention  amongst  those,  who  by  their  jockey 
dress  and  general  appearance,  I  imagined  to  be  connoisseurs ;  I 
heard  various  calls  to  stop,  to  none  of  which  I  paid  the  slightest 
attention.  In  a  few  minutes  I  found  myself  out  of  the  town, 
when,  turning  round  for  the  purpose  of  returning,  I  found  I  had 
been  followed  by  several  of  the  connoisseur-looking  individuals, 
whom  I  had  observed  in  the  fair.  "  Now  would  be  the  time  for 
a  display,"  thought  I;  and  looking  around  me  I  observed  two 
five-barred  gates,  one  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  fronting  each 
other.  Turning  my  horse's  head  to  one,  I  pressed  my  heels  to 
his  sides,  loosened  the  reins,  and  gave  an  encouraging  cry,  where- 
upon the  animal  cleared  the  gate  in  a  twinkling.  Before  he  had 
advanced  ten  yards  in  the  field  to  which  the  gate  opened,  I  had 
turned  him  round,  and  again  giving  him  cry  and  rein,  I  caused 
him  to  leap  back  again  into  the  road,  and  still  allowing  him  head, 
I  made  him  leap  the  other  gate ;  and  forthwith  turning  him  round, 
I  caused  him  to  leap  once  more  into  the  road,  where  he  stood 
proudly  tossing  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "What  more?" 
"  A  fine  horse  !  a  capital  horse  !  "  said  several  of  the  connoisseurs. 
"What  do  you  ask  for  him?"  "Too  much  for  any  of  you  to 
pay,"  said  I.  "A  horse  like  this  is  intended  for  other  kind  of 
customers  than  any  of  you."  "  How  do  you  know  that,"  said  one ; 
the  very  same  person  whom  I  had  heard  complaining  in  the  street 
of  the  paucity  of  good  horses  in  the  fair.  "  Come,  let  us  know 


216  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

what  you  ask  for  him  ?"  "  A  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,"  said  I ; 
"  neither  more  nor  less."  "  Do  you  call  that  a  great  price  ?  "  said 
the  man.  "  Why,  I  thought  you  would  have  asked  double  that 
amount !  You  do  yourself  injustice,  young  man."  "  Perhaps  I 
do,"  said  I,  "  but  that's  my  affair ;  I  do  not  choose  to  take  more." 
"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  get  into  the  saddle,"  said  the  man ; 
"  the  horse  knows  you,  and  therefore  shows  to  more  advantage ; 
but  I  should  like  to  see  how  he  would  move  under  me,  who  am  a 
stranger.  Will  you  let  me  get  into  the  saddle,  young  man?" 
''No,"  said  I;  "I  will  not  let  you  get  into  the  saddle."  "Why 
not  ?  "  said  the  man.  "  Lest  you  should  be  a  Yorkshireman,"  said 
I,  "and  should  run  away  with  the  horse."  "Yorkshire?"  said 
the  man ;  "  I  am  from  Suffolk,  silly  Suffolk,  so  you  need  not  be 
afraid  of  my  running  away  with  the  horse."  "  Oh  !  if  that's  the 
case,"  said  I,  "  I  should  be  afraid  that  the  horse  would  rim  away 
with  you ;  so  I  will  by  no  means  let  you  mount."  "  Will  you  let 
me  look  in  his  mouth?"  said  the  man.  "If  you  please,"  said 
I;  "but  I  tell  you,  he's  apt  to  bite."  "He  can  scarcely  be  a 
worse  bite  than  his  master,"  said  the  man,  looking  into  the  horse's 
mouth  ;  "  he's  four  off.  I  say,  young  man,  will  you  warrant  this 
horse  ?  "  "  No,"  said  I ;  "  I  never  warrant  horses ;  the  horses  that 
I  ride  can  always  warrant  themselves."  "  I  wish  you  would  let  me 
speak  a  word  to  you,"  said  he.  "Just  come  aside.  It's  a  nice 
horse,"  said  he  in  a  half-whisper,  after  I  had  ridden  a  few  paces 
aside  with  him.  "  It's  a  nice  horse,"  said  he,  placing  his  hand 
upon  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  looking  up  in  my  face,  "  and 
I  think  I  can  find  you  a  customer.  If  you  would  take  a  hundred, 
I  think  my  lord  would  purchase  it,  for  he  has  sent  me  about  the 
fair  to  look  him  up  a  horse,  by  which  he  could  hope  to  make  an 
honest  penny."  "Well,"  said  I,  "and  could  he  not  make  an 
honest  penny,  and  yet  give  me  the  price  I  ask?"  "Why,"  said 
the  go-between,  "  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  is  as  much  as  the 
animal  is  worth,  or  nearly  so;  and  my  lord,  do  you  see - 
"  I  see  no  reason  at  all,"  said  I,  "  why  I  should  sell  the  animal 
for  less  than  he  is  worth,  in  order  that  his  lordship  may  be  bene- 
fited by  him ;  so  that  if  his  lordship  wants  to  make  an  honest 
penny,  he  must  find  some  person  who  would  consider  the  dis- 
advantage of  selling  him  a  horse  for  less  than  it  is  worth  as 
counterbalanced  by  the  honour  of  dealing  with  a  lord,  which  I 
should  never  do ;  but  I  can't  be  wasting  my  time  here.  I  am 

going  back  to  the ,  where,  if  you,  or  any  person,  are  desirous 

of  purchasing  the  horse,  you  must  come  within  the  next  half-hour, 
or  I  shall  probably  not  feel  disposed  to  sell  him  at  all."     "  Another 


1825.]  HORNCASTLE  FAIR.  217 

word,  young  man,"  said  the  jockey,  but  without  staying  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say,  I  put  the  horse  to  his  best  trot,  and  re-entering 
the  town,  and  threading  my  way  as  well  as  I  could  through  the 
press,  I  returned  to  the  yard  of  the  inn,  where,  dismounting,  I 
stood  still,  holding  the  horse  by  the  bridle. 

I  had  been  standing  in  this  manner  about  five  minutes,  when 
I  saw  the  jockey  enter  the  yard,  accompanied  by  another  indi- 
vidual. They  advanced  directly  towards  me.  "  Here  is  my  lord 
come  to  look  at  the  horse,  young  man,"  said  the  jockey.  My 
lord,  as  the  jockey  called  him,  was  a  tall  figure,  of  about  five-and- 
thirty.  He  had  on  his  head  a  hat  somewhat  rusty,  and  on  his 
back  a  surtout  of  blue  rather  the  worse  for  wear.  His  forehead, 
if  not  high,  was  exceedingly  narrow ;  his  eyes  were  brown,  with 
a  rat-like  glare  in  them  ;  the  nose  was  rather  long,  and  the  mouth 
very  wide ;  the  cheek-bones  high,  and  the  cheeks,  as  to  hue  and 
consistency,  exhibiting  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  withered 
red  apple  ;  there  was  a  gaunt  expression  of  hunger  in  the  whole 
countenance.  He  had  scarcely  glanced  at  the  horse ;  when  draw- 
ing in  his  cheeks,  he  thrust  out  his  lips  very  much  after  the  manner 
of  a  baboon  when  he  sees  a  piece  of  sugar  held  out  towards  him.  "  Is 
this  horse  yours  ?  "  said  he,  suddenly  turning  towards  me,  with  a 
kind  of  smirk.  "  It's  my  horse,"  said  I ;  "  are  you  the  person 
who  wishes  to  make  an  honest  penny  by  it?"  "How!"  said 
he,  drawing  up  his  head  with  a  very  consequential  look,  and 
speaking  with  a  very  haughty  tone ;  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  We 
looked  at  each  other  full  in  the  face  ;  after  a  few  moments,  the 
muscles  of  the  mouth  of  him  of  the  hungry  look  began  to  move 
violently,  the  face  was  puckered  into  innumerable  wrinkles,  and  the 
eyes  became  half-closed.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  have  you  ever  seen 
me  before?  I  suppose  you  are  asking  yourself  that  question." 
"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  he,  dropping  his  lofty  look,  and  speaking 
in  a  very  subdued  and  civil  tone,  "  I  have  never  had  the  honour 

of  seeing  you  before,  that  is "  said  he,  slightly  glancing  at  me 

again,  and  again  moving  the  muscles  of  his  mouth;  "no,  I  have 
never  seen  you  before,"  he  added,  making  me  a  bow,  "  I  have 
never  had  that  pleasure.  My  business  with  you,  at  present,  is  to 
inquire  the  lowest  price  you  are  willing  to  take  for  this  horse.  My 
agent  here  informs  me  that  you  ask  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, 
which  I  cannot  think  of  giving.  The  horse  is  a  showy  horse,  but 
look,  my  dear  sir,  he  has  a  defect  here,  and  there  in  his  near  fore  leg 
I  observe  something  which  looks  very  like  a  splint — yes,  upon  my 
credit,"  said  he,  touching  the  animal,  "  he  has  a  splint,  or  something 
which  will  end  in  one.  A  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  sir  !  what 


2i8  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

could  have  induced  you  ever  to  ask  anything  like  that  for  this  ani- 
mal ?  I  protest  that,  in  my  time,  I  have  frequently  bought  a  better 

for Who  are  you,  sir  ?    I  am  in  treaty  for  this  horse,"  said  he 

to  a  man  who  had  come  up  whilst  he  was  talking,  and  was  now 
looking  into  the  horse's  mouth.  "  Who  am  I  ?  "  said  the  man, 
still  looking  into  the  horse's  mouth ;  "  who  am  I  ?  his  lordship 
asks  me.  Ah,  I  see,  close  on  five,"  said  he,  releasing  the  horse's 
jaws,  and  looking  at  me.  This  new  comer  was  a  thin,  wiry-made 
individual,  with  wiry  curling  brown  hair ;  his  face  was  dark,  and 
wore  an  arch  and  somewhat  roguish  expression  ;  upon  one  of  his 
eyes  was  a  kind  of  speck  or  beam  ;  he  might  be  about  forty,  wore 
a  green  jockey  coat,  and  held  in  his  hand  a  black  riding-whip, 
with  a  knob  of  silver  wire.  .  As  I  gazed  upon  his  countenance,  it 
brought  powerfully  to  my  mind  the  face  which,  by  the  light  of  the 
candle,  I  had  seen  staring  over  me  on  the  preceding  night,  when 
lying  in  bed  and  half-asleep.  Close  beside  him,  and  seemingly 
in  his  company,  stood  an  exceedingly  tall  figure,  that  of  a  youth, 
seemingly  about  one-and-twenty,  dressed  in  a  handsome  riding- 
dress,  and  wearing  on  his  head  a  singular  hat,  green  in  colour, 
and  with  a  very  high  peak.  "What  do  you  ask  for  this  horse?" 
said  he  of  the  green  coat,  winking  at  me  with  the  eye  which  had 
a  beam  in  it,  whilst  the  other  shone  and  sparkled  like  Mrs.  Colonel 

W 's  Golconda  diamond.     "Who   are   you,    sir,    I  demand 

once  more  ?  "  said  he  of  the  hungry  look.  "  Who  am  I  ?  why, 
who  should  I  be  but  Jack  Dale,  who  buys  horses  for  himself  and 
other  folk  ;  I  want  one  at  present  for  this  short  young  gentleman," 
said  he,  motioning  with  his  finger  to  the  gigantic  youth.  "Well, 
sir,"  said  the  other,  "  and  what  business  have  you  to  interfere 
between  me  and  any  purchase  I  may  be  disposed  to  make?" 
"Well,  then,"  said  the  other,  "  be  quick  and  purchase  the  horse, 
or,  perhaps,  I  may."  "Do  you  think  I  am  to  be  dictated  to  by 
a  fellow  of  your  description?"  said  his  lordship;  "begone,  or 

"     "  What  do  you  ask  for  this  horse  ?  "  said  the  other  to  me, 

very  coolly.  "  A  hundred  and  fifty,"  said  I.  "  I  shouldn't  mind 
giving  it  to  you,"  said  he.  "  You  will  do  no  such  thing,"  said 
his  lordship,  speaking  so  fast  that  he  almost  stuttered.  "Sir," 
said  he  to  me,  "I  must  give  you  what  you  ask;  Symmonds, 
take  possession  of  the  animal  for  me,"  said  he  to  the  other  jockey 
who  attended  him.  "  You  will  please  to  do  no  such  thing  without 
my  consent,"  said  I;  "I  have  not  sold  him."  "I  have  this 
moment  told  you  that  I  will  give  you  the  price  you  demand,"  said 
his  lordship;  "is  not  that  sufficient?"  "No,"  said  I,  "there  is 
a  proper  manner  of  doing  everything ;  had  you  come  forward  in 


1825.]  HORNCASTLE  FAIR.  219 

a  manly  and  gentlemanly  manner  to  purchase  the  horse,  I  should 
have  been  happy  to  sell  him  to  you,  but  after  all  the  fault  you 
have  found  with  him,  I  would  not  sell  him  to  you  at  any  price, 
so  send  your  friend  to  find  up  another."  "You  behave  in  this 
manner,  I  suppose,"  said  his  lordship,  "because  this  fellow  has 
expressed  a  willingness  to  come  to  your  terms.  I  would  advise 
you  to  be  cautious  how  you  trust  the  animal  in  his  hands ;  I  think 

I  have  seen  him  before  and  could  tell  you "     "What  can 

you  tell  of  me  ?  "  said  the  other,  going  up  to  him  ;  "  except  that 
I  have  been  a  poor  dicky-boy,  and  that  now  I  am  a  dealer  in 
horses,  and  that  my  father  was  lagged ;  that's  all  you  could  tell 
of  me,  and  that  I  don't  mind  telling  myself:  but  there  are  two 
things  they  can't  say  of  me,  they  can't  say  that  I  am  either  a 
coward  or  a  screw  either,  except  so  far  as  one  who  gets  his  bread 
by  horses  may  be  expected  to  be  ;  and  they  can't  say  of  me  that 
I  ever  ate  up  an  ice  which  a  young  woman  was  waiting  for,  or 
that  I  ever  backed  out  of  a  fight.  Horse!  "  said  he,  motioning 
with  his  finger  tauntingly  to  the  other,  "  what  do  you  want  with 
a  horse,  except  to  take  the  bread  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  poor  man 
— to-morrow  is  not  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  so  that  you  don't  want 
to  back  out  of  danger,  by  pretending  to  have  hurt  yourself  by 
falling  from  the  creature's  back,  my  lord  of  the  white  feather; 
come,  none  of  your  fierce  looks,  I  am  not  afraid  of  you."  In 
fact,  the  other  had  assumed  an  expression  of  the  deadliest  malice, 
his  teeth  were  clenched,  his  lips  quivered,  and  were  quite  pale ; 
the  rat-like  eyes  sparkled,  and  he  made  a  half-spring,  a  la  rat, 
towards  his  adversary,  who  only  laughed.  Restraining  himself, 
however,  he  suddenly  turned  to  his  understrapper,  saying :  "  Sym- 
monds,  will  you  see  me  thus  insulted?  go  and  trounce  this 
scoundrel ;  you  can,  I  know."  "  Symmonds  trounce  me  !  "  said 
the  other,  going  up  to  the  person  addressed,  and  drawing  his  hand 
contemptuously  over  his  face;  "why,  I  beat  Symmonds  in  this 
very  yarJ  in  one  round  three  years  ago;  didn't  I,  Symmonds?" 
said  he  to  the  understrapper,  who  held  down  his  head,  muttering, 
in  a  surly  tone,  "  I  didn't  come  here  to  fight;  let  every  one  take 
his  own  part."  "That's  right,  Symmonds,"  said  the  other, 
"  especially  every  one  from  whom  there  is  nothing  to  be  got.  I 
would  give  you  half  a  crown  for  all  the  trouble  you  have  had, 
provided  I  were  not  afraid  that  my  Lord  Plume  there  would  get 
it  from  you  as  soon  as  you  leave  the  yard  together.  Come,  take 
yourselves  both  off;  there's  nothing  to  be  made  here."  Indeed, 
his  lordship  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  opinion,  for  after  a  further 
glance  at  the  horse,  a  contemptuous  look  at  me,  and  a  scowl  at 


220  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

the  jockey,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  muttering  something  which 
sounded  like  fellows,  and  stalked  out  of  the  yard,  followed  by 
Symmonds. 

"  And  now,  young  man,"  said  the  jockey,  or  whatever  he  was, 
turning  to  me  with  an  arch  leer,  "  I  suppose  I  may  consider 
myself  as  the  purchaser  of  this  here  animal,  for  the  use  and  behoof 
of  this  young  gentleman?"  making  a  sign  with  his  head  towards 
the  tall  young  man  by  his  side.  "  By  no  means,"  said  I ;  "  I  am 
utterly  unacquainted  with  either  of  you,  and  before  parting  with 
the  horse,  I  must  be  satisfied  as  to  the  respectablity  of  the  pur- 
chaser." "  Oh  !  as  to  that  matter,"  said  he,  "I  have  plenty  of 
vouchers  for  my  respectability  about  me,"  and  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  bosom  below  his  waistcoat,  he  drew  out  a  large 
bundle  of  notes.  "  These  are  the  kind  of  things,"  said  he,  "  which 
vouch  best  for  a  man's  respectability."  "  Not  always,"  said  I ; 
"  indeed,  sometimes  these  kind  of  things  need  vouchers  for  them- 
selves." The  man  looked  at  me  with  a  peculiar  look.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  these  notes  are  not  sufficient  notes?"  said  he, 
"  because  if  you  do,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  thinking  that  you 
are  not  over  civil,  and  when  I  thinks  a  person  is  not  over  and 
above  civil  I  sometimes  takes  off  my  coat,  and  when  my  coat  is  off 

"  "  You  sometimes  knock  people  down,"  I  added  ;  "well, 

whether  you  knock  me  down  or  not,  I  beg  leave  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  a  stranger  in  this  fair,  and  that  I  shall  part  with  the  horse 
to  nobody  who  has  no  better  guarantee  for  his  respectability  than 
a  roll  of  bank-notes,  which  may  be  good  or  not  for  what  I  know, 
who  am  not  a  judge  of  such  things."  "  Oh  !  if  you  are  a  stranger 
here,"  said  the  man,  "as  I  believe  you  are,  never  having  seen 
you  here  before  except  last  night,  when  I  think  I  saw  you  above 
stairs  by  the  glimmer  of  a  candle — I  say,  if  you  are  a  stranger, 
you  are  quite  right  to  be  cautious ;  queer  things  being  done  in 
this  fair,  as  nobody  knows  better  than  myself,"  he  added  with  a 
leer ;  "  but  I  suppose  if  the  landlord  of  the  house  vouches  for 
me  and  my  notes,  you  will  have  no  objection  to  part  with  the 
horse  to  me?"  "None  whatever,"  said  I,  "and  in  the  mean- 
time the  horse  can  return  to  the  stable." 

Thereupon  I  delivered  the  horse  to  my  friend  the  ostler.  The 
landlord  of  the  house  on  being  questioned  by  me  as  to  the  char- 
acter and  condition  of  my  new  acquaintance,  informed  me  that 
he  was  a  respectable  horsedealer,  and  an  intimate  friend  of  his, 
whereupon  the  purchase  was  soon  brought  to  a  satisfactory  con- 
clusion. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

IT  was  evening,  and  myself  and  the  two  acquaintances  I  had 
made  in  the  fair — namely,  the  jockey  and  the  tall  foreigner — sat 
in  a  large  upstairs  room,  which  looked  into  a  court ;  we  had 
dined  with  several  people  connected  with  the  fair  at  a  long  table 
d'hote  ;  they  had  now  departed,  and  we  sat  at  a  small  side-table  with 
wine  and  a  candle  before  us  ;  both  my  companions  had  pipes  in 
their  mouths — the  jockey  a  common  pipe,  and  the  foreigner  one, 
the  syphon  of  which,  made  of  some  kind  of  wood,  was  at  least  six 
feet  long,  and  the  bowl  of  which,  made  of  a  white  kind  of  sub- 
stance like  porcelain,  and  capable  of  holding  nearly  an  ounce 
of  tobacco,  rested  on  the  ground.  The  jockey  frequently  emptied 
and  replenished  his  glass ;  the  foreigner  sometimes  raised  his  to 
his  lips,  for  no  other  purpose  seemingly  than  to  moisten  them,  as 
he  never  drained  his  glass.  As  for  myself,  though  I  did  not 
smoke,  I  had  a  glass  before  me,  from  which  I  sometimes  took  a 
sip.  The  room,  notwithstanding  the  window  was  flung  open,  was 
in  general  so  filled  with  smoke,  chiefly  that  which  was  drawn 
from  the  huge  bowl  of  the  foreigner,  that  my  companions  and  I 
were  frequently  concealed  from  each  other's  eyes.  The  conversa- 
tion, which  related  entirely  to  the  events  of  the  fair,  was  carried 
on  by  the  jockey  and  myself,  the  foreigner,  who  appeared  to 
understand  the  greater  part  of  what  we  said,  occasionally  putting 
in  a  few  observations  in  broken  English.  At  length  the  jockey, 
after  the  other  had  made  some  ineffectual  attempts  to  express 
something  intelligibly  which  he  wished  to  say,  observed  :  "  Isn't 
it  a  pity  that  so  fine  a  fellow  as  meinheer,  and  so  clever  a  fellow 
too,  as  I  believe  him  to  be,  is  not  a  little  better  master  of 
our  language?" 

"  Is  the  gentleman  a  German  ?  "  said  I ;  "  if  so,  I  can  interpret 
for  him  anything  he  wishes  to  say." 

"  The  deuce  you  can,"  said  the  jockey,  taking  his  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth,  and  staring  at  me  through  the  smoke. 

"  Ha  !  you  speak  German,"  vociferated  the  foreigner  in  that 

language.     "  By  Isten,  I  am  glad  of  it !     I  wanted  to  say " 

And  here  he  said  in  German  what  he  wished  to  say,  and  which  was 
of  no  great  importance,  and  which  I  translated  into  English. 

(221) 


222  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  put  me  out,"  said  the  jockey;  "what 
language  is  that — Dutch?" 

"  High  Dutch,"  said  I. 

"  High  Dutch,  and  you  speak  High  Dutch, — why  I  had 
booked  you  for  as  great  an  ignoramus  as  myself,  who  can't  write 
— no,  nor  distinguish  in  a  book  a  great  A  from  a  bull's  foot." 

"A  person  may  be  a  very  clever  man,"  said  I — "no,  not  a 
clever  man,  for  clever  signifies  clerkly,  and  a  clever  man  one  who 
is  able  to  read  and  write,  and  entitled  to  the  benefit  of  his  clergy 
or  clerkship ;  but  a  person  may  be  a  very  acute  person  without  being 
able  to  read  or  write.  I  never  saw  a  more  acute  countenance  than 
your  own." 

"  No  soft  soap,"  said  the  jockey,  "  for  I  never  uses  any.  How- 
ever, thank  you  for  your  information ;  I  have  hitherto  thought  myself 
a  'nition  clever  fellow,  but  from  henceforth  shall  consider  myself 
just  the  contrary,  and  only — what's  the  word? — confounded  'cute." 

"Just  so,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  said  the  jockey,  "  as  you  say  you  can  speak  High 
Dutch,  I  should  like  to  hear  you  and  master  six  foot  six  fire  away 
at  each  other." 

"I  cannot  speak  German,"  said  I,  "but  I  can  understand 
tolerably  well  what  others  say  in  it." 

"  Come,  no  backing  out,"  said  the  jockey  ;  "  let's  hear  you  fire 
away  for  the  glory  of  Old  England." 

"  Then  you  are  a  German?"  said  I  in  German  to  the  foreigner. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  jockey,  "  keep  it  up." 

"A  German!"  said  the  tall  foreigner.  "No,  I  thank  God 
that  I  do  not  belong  to  the  stupid,  sluggish  Germanic  race,  but  to 
a  braver,  taller  and  handsomer  people;  "  here  taking  the  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth,  he  stood  up  proudly  erect,  so  that  his  head  nearly 
touched  the  ceiling  of  the  room,  then  reseating  himself,  and  again 
putting  the  syphon  to  his  lips,  he  added,  "  I  am  a  Magyar  ". 

"  What  is  that?  "said  I. 

The  foreigner  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  somewhat  contemp- 
tuously, through  the  smoke,  then  said,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  A 
Hungarian  ! " 

"  What  a  voice  the  chap  has  when  he  pleases  ! "  interposed  the 
jockey  ;  "  what  is  he  saying  ?  " 

"  Merely  that  he  is  a  Hungarian,"  said  I ;  but  I  added,  "the  con- 
versation of  this  gentleman  and  myself  in  a  language  which  you  can't 
understand  must  be  very  tedious  to  you,  we  had  better  give  it  up." 

"  Keep  on  with  it,"  said  the  jockey;  "I  shall  go  on  listening 
very  contentedly  till  I  fall  asleep,  no  bad  thing  to  do  at  most  times." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

"  THEN  you  are  a  countryman  of  Tekeli,  and  of  the  queen  who 
made  the  celebrated  water,"  said  I,  speaking  to  the  Hungarian  in 
German,  which  I  was  able  to  do  tolerably  well  owing  to  my  having 
translated  the  publisher's  philosophy  into  that  language,  always 
provided  I  did  not  attempt  to  say  much  at  a  time. 

Hungarian.  Ah  !  you  have  heard  of  Tekeli,  and  of  L'eau  de 
la  Reine  d'Hongrie.  How  is  that  ? 

Myself.  I  have  seen  a  play  acted,  founded  on  the  exploits  of 
Tekeli,  and  have  read  Pigault  Le  Brun's  beautiful  romance,  en- 
titled the  Barons  of  Felsheim  in  which  he  is  mentioned.  As 
for  the  water,  I  have  heard  a  lady,  the  wife  of  a  master  of  mine, 
speak  of  it. 

Hungarian.  Was  she  handsome  ? 

Myself.  Very. 

Hungarian.  Did  she  possess  the  water  ? 

Myself.  I  should  say  not;  for  I  have  heard  her  express  a 
great  curiosity  about  it. 

Hungarian.  Was  she  growing  old  ? 

Myself.  Of  course  not ,  but  why  do  you  put  all  these  ques- 
tions ? 

Hungarian.  Because  the  water  is  said  to  make  people  hand- 
some, and  above  all,  to  restore  to  the  aged  the  beauty  of  their 
youth.  Well !  Tekeli  was  my  countryman,  and  I  have  the  honour 
of  having  some  of  the  blood  of  the  Tekelis  in  my  veins,  but  with 
respect  to  the  queen,  pardon  me  if  I  tell  you  that  she  was  not  an 
Hungarian ;  she  was  a  Pole — Ersebet  by  name,  daughter  of 
Wladislaus  Locticus  King  of  Poland ;  she  was  the  fourth  spouse 
of  Caroly  the  Second,  King  of  the  Magyar  country,  who  married 
her  in  1320.  She  was  a  great  woman  and  celebrated  politician, 
though  at  present  chiefly  known  by  her  water. 

Myself.  How  came  she  to  invent  it? 

Hungarian.  If  her  own  account  may  be  believed,  she  did  not 
invent  it.  After  her  death,  as  I  have  read  in  Florentius  of  Buda, 
there  was  found  a  statement  of  the  manner  in  which  she  came  by 
it.  written  in  her  own  hand,  on  a  fly-leaf  of  her  breviary,  to  the 

(223) 


224  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

following  effect :  Being  afflicted  with  a  grievous  disorder  at  the 
age  of  seventy-two,  she  received  the  medicine  which  was  called 
her  water,  from  an  old  hermit  whom  she  never  saw  before  or 
afterwards;  it  not  only  cured  her,  but  restored  to  her  all  her 
former  beauty,  so  that  the  King  of  Poland  fell  in  love  with  her, 
and  made  her  an  offer  of  marriage,  which  she  refused  for  the 
glory  of  God,  from  whose  holy  angel  she  believed  she  had  received 
the  water.  The  receipt  for  making  it  and  directions  for  using  it, 
were  also  found  on  the  fly-leaf.  The  principal  component  parts 
were  burnt  wine  and  rosemary,  passed  through  an  alembic ;  a 
drachm  of  it  was  to  be  taken  once  a  week,  "  etelbenn  vagy  ital- 
bann"  in  the  food  or  the  drink,  early  in  the  morning,  and  the 
cheeks  were  to  be  moistened  with  it  every  day.  The  effects, 
according  to  the  statement,  were  wonderful — and  perhaps  they 
were  upon  the  queen;  but  whether  the  water  has  been  equally 
efficacious  on  other  people,  is  a  point  which  I  cannot  determine. 
I  should  wish  to  see  some  old  woman  who  has  been  restored  to 
youthful  beauty  by  the  use  of  L'eau  de  la  Reine  d'Hongrie. 

Myself.  Perhaps,  if  you  did,  the  old  gentlewoman  would 
hardly  be  so  ingenuous  as  the  queen.  But  who  are  the  Hunga- 
rians— descendants  of  Attila  and  his  people  ? 

The  Hungarian  shook  his  head,  and  gave  me  to  understand 
that  he  did  not  believe  that  his  nation  were  the  descendants  of 
Attila  and  his  people,  though  he  acknowledged  that  they  were 
probably  of  the  same  race.  Attila  and  his  armies,  he  said,  came 
and  disappeared  in  a  very  mysterious  manner,  and  that  nothing 
could  be  said  with  positiveness  about  them  ;  that  the  people  now 
known  as  Magyars  first  made  their  appearance  in  Muscovy  in  the 
year  884,  under  the  leadership  of  Almus,  called  so  from  atom, 
which,  in  the  Hungarian  language,  signifies  a  dream  ;  his  mother, 
before  his  birth,  having  dreamt  that  the  child  with  which  she  was 
enceinte  would  be  the  father  of  a  long  succession  of  kings,  which, 
in  fact,  was  the  case ;  that  after  beating  the  Russians  he  entered 
Hungary,  and  coming  to  a  place  called  Ungvar,  from  which  many 
people  believed  that  modern  Hungary  derived  its  name,  he 
captured  it,  and  held  in  it  a  grand  festival,  which  lasted  four  days, 
at  the  end  of  which  time  he  resigned  the  leadership  of  the  Magyars 
to  his  son  Arpad.  This  Arpad  and  his  Magyars  utterly  subdued 
Pannonia — that  is,  Hungary  and  Transylvania — wresting  the 
government  of  it  from  the  Sclavonian  tribes  who  inhabited  it,  and 
settling  down  amongst  them  as  conquerors  !  After  giving  me  this 
information,  the  Hungarian  exclaimed  with  much  animation : 
"  A  goodly  country  that  which  they  had  entered  on,  consisting  of 


1825.]  THE  HUNGARIAN.  225 

a  plain  surrounded  by  mountains,  some  of  which  intersect  it  here 
and  there,  with  noble  rapid  rivers,  the  grandest  of  which  is  the 
mighty  Dunau ;  a  country  with  tiny  volcanoes,  casting  up  puffs 
of  smoke  and  steam,  and  from  which  hot  springs  arise,  good  for 
the  sick ;  with  many  fountains,  some  of  which  are  so  pleasant  to 
the  taste  as  to  be  preferred  to  wine ;  with  a  generous  soil  which, 
warmed  by  a  beautiful  sun,  is  able  to  produce  corn,  grapes,  and 
even  the  Indian  weed ;  in  fact,  one  of  the  finest  countries  in  the 
world,  which  even  a  Spaniard  would  pronounce  to  be  nearly  equal 
to  Spain.  Here  they  rested,  meditating,  however,  fresh  con- 
quests. Oh,  the  Magyars  soon  showed  themselves  a  mighty 
people.  Besides  Hungary  and  Transylvania,  they  subdued  Bul- 
garia and  Bosnia,  and  the  land  of  Tot,  now  called  Sclavonia. 
The  generals  of  Zoltan,  the  son  of  Arpad,  led  troops  of  horsemen 
to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  One  of  them,  at  the  head  of  a  host, 
besieged  Constantinople.  It  was  then  that  Botond  engaged  in 
combat  with  a  Greek  of  gigantic  stature,  who  came  out  of  the 
city  and  challenged  the  two  best  men  in  the  Magyar  army.  '  I 
am  the  feeblest  of  the  Magyars,'  said  Botond,  'but  I  will  kill 
thee ; '  and  he  performed  his  word,  having  previously  given  a 
proof  of  the  feebleness  of  his  arm  by  striking  his  battle-axe  through 
the  brazen  gate,  making  a  hole  so  big  that  a  child  of  five  years 
old  could  walk  through  it." 

Myself.  Of  what  religion  were  the  old  Hungarians  ? 

Hungarian.  They  had  some  idea  of  a  Supreme  Being,  whom 
they  called  fsten,  which  word  is  still  used  by  the  Magyars  for 
God ;  but  their  chief  devotion  was  directed  to  sorcerers  and 
soothsayers,  something  like  the  Schamans  of  the  Siberian  steppes. 
They  were  converted  to  Christianity  chiefly  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  Istvan  or  Stephen,  called  after  his  death  St.  Istvan, 
who  ascended  the  throne  in  the  year  one  thousand.  He  was 
born  in  heathenesse,  and  his  original  name  was  Vojk  :  he  was  the 
first  kiraly,  or  king,  of  the  Magyars.  Their  former  leaders  had 
been  called  fejedelmek,  or  dukes.  The  Magyar  language  has 
properly  no  term  either  for  king  or  house.  Kiraly  is  a  word 
derived  from  the  Sclaves  ;  haz^  or  house,  from  the  Germans,  who 
first  taught  them  to  build  houses,  their  original  dwellings  having 
been  tilted  waggons. 

Myself.  Many  thanks  for  your  account  of  the  great  men  of 
your  country. 

Hungarian.  The  great  men  of  my  country  !  I  have  only  told 

you  of  the  Well,  I  acknowledge  that  Almus  and  Arpad 

were  great  men,  but  Hungary  has  produced  many  greater  ;  I  will 

'5 


326  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

not  trouble  you  by  recapitulating  all,  but  there  is  one  name  I 
cannot  forbear  mentioning — but  you  have  heard  of  it — even  at 
Horncastle  the  name  of  Hunyadi  must  be  familiar. 

Myself.  It  may  be  so,  though  I  rather  doubt  it ;  but,  however 
that  may  be,  I  confess  my  ignorance.  I  have  never,  until  this 
moment,  heard  the  name  of  Hunyadi. 

Hungarian.  Not  of  Hunyadi  Janos,  not  of  Hunyadi  John — 
for  the  genius  of  our  language  compels  us  to  put  a  man's  Christian 
name  after  his  other ;  perhaps  you  have  heard  of  the  name  of 
Corvinus  ? 

Myself.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  the  name  of  Corvinus. 

Hungarian.  By  my  God,  I  am  glad  of  it ;  I  thought  our 
hammer  of  destruction,  our  thunderbolt,  whom  the  Greeks  called 
Achilles,  must  be  known  to  the  people  of  Horncastle.  Well, 
Hunyadi  and  Corvinus  are  the  same. 

Myself.  Corvinus  means  the  man  of  the  crow,  or  raven.  I 
suppose  that  your  John,  when  a  boy,  climbed  up  to  a  crow  or  a 
raven's  nest,  and  stole  the  young;  a  bold  feat,  well  befitting  a 
young  hero. 

Hungarian.  By  Isten,  you  are  an  acute  guesser;  a  robbery 
there  was,  but  it  was  not  Hunyadi  who  robbed  the  raven,  but  the 
raven  who  robbed  Hunyadi. 

Myself.  How  was  that  ? 

Hungarian.  In  this  manner  :  Hunyadi,  according  to  tradition, 
was  the  son  of  King  Sigmond,  by  a  peasant's  daughter.  The  king 
saw  and  fell  in  love  with  her,  whilst  marching  against  the  vaivode 
of  Wallachia.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading  her  to  con- 
sent to  his  wishes,  and  she  only  yielded  at  last  on  the  king  making 
her  a  solemn  promise  that,  in  the  event  of  her  becoming  with  child 
by  him,  he  would  handsomely  provide  for  her  and  the  infant. 
The  king  proceeded  on  his  expedition,  and  on  his  returning  in 
triumph  from  Wallachia,  he  again  saw  the  girl,  who  informed  him 
that  she  was  enceinte  by  him ;  the  king  was  delighted  with  the 
intelligence,  gave  the  girl  money,  and  at  the  same  time  a  ring, 
requesting  her,  if  she  brought  forth  a  son,  to  bring  the  ring  to 
Buda  with  the  child,  and  present  it  to  him.  When  her  time  was 
up,  the  peasant's  daughter  brought  forth  a  fair  son,  who  was 
baptised  by  the  name  of  John.  After  some  time  the  young 
woman  communicated  the  whole  affair  to  her  elder  brother,  whose 
name  was  Caspar,  and  begged  him  to  convey  her  and  the  child 
to  the  king  at  Buda.  The  brother  consented,  and  both  set  out, 
taking  the  child  with  them.  On  their  way,  the  woman,  wanting 
to  wash  her  clothes,  laid  the  child  down,  giving  it  the  king's  ring 


i8as.]  HUNYADI JANOS.  227 

to  play  with.  A  raven,  who  saw  the  glittering  ring,  came  flying, 
and  plucking  it  out  of  the  child's  hand,  carried  it  up  into  a  tree ; 
the  child  suddenly  began  to  cry,  and  the  mother,  hearing  it,  left 
her  washing,  and  running  to  the  child,  forthwith  missed  the  ring, 
but  hearing  the  raven  croak  in  the  tree,  she  lifted  up  her  eyes, 
and  saw  it  with  the  ring  in  its  beak.  The  woman,  in  great  terror, 
called  her  brother,  and  told  him  what  had  happened,  adding,  that 
she  durst  not  approach  the  king  if  the  raven  took  away  the  ring. 
Caspar,  seizing  his  cross-bow  and  quiver,  ran  to  the  tree,  where 
the  raven  was  yet  with  the  ring,  and  discharged  an  arrow  at  it, 
but,  being  in  a  great  hurry,  he  missed  it ;  with  his  second  shot  he 
was  more  lucky,  for  he  hit  the  raven  in  the  breast,  which,  together 
with  the  ring,  fell  to  the  ground.  Taking  up  the  ring,  they  went 
on  their  way,  and  shortly  arrived  at  Buda.  One  day,  as  the  king 
was  walking  after  dinner  in  his  outer  hall,  the  woman  appeared 
before  him  with  the  child,  and,  showing  him  the  ring,  said : 
"  Mighty  lord !  behold  this  token !  and  take  pity  upon  me  and 
your  own  son  ".  King  Sigmond  took  the  child  and  kissed  it,  and, 
after  a  pause  said  to  the  mother  :  "  You  have  done  right  in  bringing 
me  the  boy ;  I  will  take  care  of  you,  and  make  him  a  nobleman  ". 
The  king  was  as  good  as  his  word  ;  he  provided  for  the  mother, 
caused  the  boy  to  be  instructed  in  knightly  exercises,  and  made 
him  a  present  of  the  town  of  Hunyad,  in  Transylvania,  on  which 
account  he  was  afterwards  called  Hunyadi,  and  gave  him,  as  an 
armorial  sign,  a  raven  bearing  a  ring  in  his  beak. 

Such,  oh  young  man  of  Horncastle  !  is  the  popular  account  of 
the  birth  of  the  great  captain  of  Hungary,  as  related  by  Florentius 
of  Buda.  There  are  other  accounts  of  his  birth,  which  is,  indeed, 
involved  in  much  mystery,  and  of  the  reason  of  his  being  called 
Corvinus,  but  as  this  is  the  most  pleasing,  and  is,  upon  the  whole, 
founded  on  quite  as  good  evidence  as  the  others,  I  have  selected 
it  for  recitation. 

Myself.  I  heartily  thank  you  ;  but  you  must  tell  me  something 
more  of  Hunyadi.  You  call  him  your  great  captain  ;  what  did 
he  do? 

Hungarian.  Do !  what  no  other  man  of  his  day  could  have 
done.  He  broke  the  power  of  the  Turk  when  he  was  coming  to 
overwhelm  Europe.  From  the  blows  inflicted  by  Hunyadi,  the 
Turk  never  thoroughly  recovered  ;  he  has  been  frequently  worsted 
in  latter  times,  but  none  but  Hunyadi  could  have  routed  the  armies 
of  Amurath  and  Mahomed  the  Second. 

Myself.  How  was  it  that  he  had  an  opportunity  of  displaying 
his  military  genius  ? 


228  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

Hungarian.  I  can  hardly  tell  you,  but  his  valour  soon  made 
him  famous;  King  Albert  made  him  Ban  of  Szorenyi.  He 
became  eventually  waivode  of  Transylvania,  and  governor  of 
Hungary.  His  first  grand  action  was  the  defeat  of  Bashaw 
Isack ;  and  though  himself  surprised  and  routed  at  St.  Imre,  he 
speedily  regained  his  prestige  by  defeating  the  Turks,  with 
enormous  slaughter,  killing  their  leader,  Mezerbeg;  and  subse- 
quently, at  the  battle  of  the  Iron  Gates,  he  destroyed  ninety 
thousand  Turks,  sent  by  Amurath  to  avenge  the  late  disgrace. 
It  was  then  that  the  Greeks  called  him  Achilles. 

Myself.  He  was  not  always  successful. 

Hungarian.  Who  could  be  always  successful  against  the  early 
Turk  ?  He  was  defeated  in  the  battle  in  which  King  Vladislaus 
lost  his  life,  but  his  victories  outnumbered  his  defeats  three-fold. 
His  grandest  victory — perhaps  the  grandest  ever  achieved  by 
man — was  over  the  terrible  Mahomed  the  Second;  who,  after 
the  taking  of  Constantinople  in  1453,  said  :  "One  God  in  Heaven 
— one  king  on  earth";  and  marched  to  besiege  Belgrade  at  the 
head  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men ;  swearing  by  the 
beard  of  the  prophet,  "That  he  would  sup  within  it  ere  two 
months  were  elapsed ".  He  brought  with  him  dogs,  to  eat  the 
bodies  of  the  Christians  whom  he  should  take  or  slay ;  so  says 
Florentius ;  hear  what  he  also  says :  The  Turk  sat  down  before 
the  town  towards  the  end  of  June,  1454,  covering  the  Dunau  and 
Szava  with  ships  :  and  on  the  4th  of  July  he  began  to  cannonade 
Belgrade  with  cannons  twenty-five  feet  long,  whose  roar  could  be 
heard  at  Szeged,  a  distance  of  twenty-four  leagues,  at  which  place 
Hunyadi  had  assembled  his  forces.  Hunyadi  had  been  able  to 
raise  only  fifteen  thousand  of  well-armed  and  disciplined  men, 
though  he  had  with  him  vast  bands  of  people,  who  called  them- 
selves Soldiers  of  the  Cross,  but  who  consisted  of  inexperienced 
lads  from  school,  peasants  and  hermits,  armed  with  swords, 
slings  and  clubs.  Hunyadi,  undismayed  by  the  great  disparity 
between  his  forces  and  those  of  the  Turk,  advanced  to  relieve 
Belgrade,  and  encamped  at  Szalankemen  with  his  army.  There 
he  saw  at  once  that  his  first  step  must  be  to  attack  the  flotilla ; 
he  therefore  privately  informed  Szilagy,  his  wife's  brother,  who  at 
that  time  defended  Belgrade,  that  it  was  his  intention  to  attack 
the  ships  of  the  Turks  on  the  i4th  day  of  July  in  front,  and  re- 
quested his  co-operation  in  the  rear.  On  the  i4th  came  on  the 
commencement  of  the  great  battle  of  Belgrade,  between  Hunyadi 
and  the  Turk.  Many  days  it  lasted. 

MyselJ*  Describe  it. 


1835.]  FLORENTIUS  OF  BUDA.  *zg 

Hungarian.  I  cannot.  One  has  described  it  well — Florentius 
of  Buda.  I  can  only  repeat  a  few  of  his  words :  "  On  the 
appointed  day,  Hunyadi,  with  two  hundred  vessels,  attacked  the 
Turkish  flotilla  in  front,  whilst  Szilagy,  with  forty  vessels,  filled 
with  the  men  of  Belgrade,  assailed  it  in  the  rear ;  striving  for  the 
same  object,  they  sunk  many  of  the  Turkish  vessels,  captured 
seventy-four,  burnt  many,  and  utterly  annihilated  the  whole  fleet. 
After  this  victory,  Hunyadi,  with  his  army  entered  Belgrade,  to 
the  great  joy  of  the  Magyars.  But  though  the  force  of  Mahomed 
upon  the  water  was  destroyed,  that  upon  the  land  remained  entire ; 
and  with  this,  during  six  days  and  nights,  he  attacked  the  city 
without  intermission,  destroying  its  walls  in  many  parts.  His  last 
and  most  desperate  assault  was  made  on  the  2ist  day  of  July. 
Twice  did  the  Turks  gain  possession  of  the  outer  town,  and  twice 
was  it  retaken  with  indescribable  slaughter.  The  next  day  the 
combat  raged  without  ceasing  till  midday,  when  the  Turks  were 
again  beaten  out  of  the  town,  and  pursued  by  the  Magyars  to  their 
camp.  There  the  combat  was  renewed,  both  sides  displaying  the 
greatest  obstinacy  until  Mahomed  received  a  great  wound  over  his 
left  eye.  The  Turks  then,  turning  their  faces,  fled,  leaving  be- 
hind them  three  hundred  cannon  in  the  hands  of  the  Christians, 
and  more  than  twenty-four  thousand  slain  on  the  field  of  battle." 

Myself.  After  that  battle,  I  suppose  Hunyadi  enjoyed  his 
triumphs  in  peace  ? 

Hungarian.  In  the  deepest,  for  he  shortly  died.  His  great 
soul  quitted  his  body,  which  was  exhausted  by  almost  superhuman 
exertions,  on  the  nth  of  August,  1456.  Shortly  before  he  died, 
according  to  Florentius,  a  comet  appeared,  sent,  as  it  would 
seem,  to  announce  his  coming  end.  The  whole  Christian  world 
mourned  his  loss.  The  Pope  ordered  the  cardinals  to  perform 
a  funeral  ceremony  at  Rome  in  his  honour.  His  great  enemy 
himself  grieved  for  him,  and  pronounced  his  finest  eulogium. 
When  Mahomed  the  Second  heard  of  his  death,  he  struck  his 
head  for  some  time  against  the  ground  without  speaking. 
Suddenly  he  broke  silence  with  these  words  :  "  Notwithstanding 
he  was  my  enemy,  yet  do  I  bewail  his  loss ;  since  the  sun  has 
shone  in  heaven,  no  Prince  had  ever  yet  such  a  man  ". 

Myself.  What  was  the  name  of  his  Prince  ? 

Hungarian.  Laszlo  the  Fifth;  who,  though  under  infinite 
obligations  to  Hunyadi,  was  anything  but  grateful  to  him  ;  for  he 
once  consented  to  a  plan  which  was  laid  to  assassinate  him, 
contrived  by  his  mortal  enemy  Ulrik,  Count  of  Cilejia  ;  and  after 
Hunyadi's  death,  caused  his  eldest  son  Hunyadi  Laszlo,  to  be 


230  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

executed  on  a  false  accusation,  and  imprisoned  his  younger  son, 
Matyas,  who,  on  the  death  of  Laszlo,  was  elected  by  the  Magyars 
to  be  their  king,  on  the  24th  of  January,  1458. 

Myself.  Was  this  Matyas  a  good  king  ? 

Hungarian.  Was  Matyas  Corvinus  a  good  king?  O  young 
man  of  Horncastle  !  he  was  the  best  and  greatest  that  Hungary 
ever  possessed,  and,  after  his  father,  the  most  renowned  warrior 
— some  of  our  best  laws  were  framed  by  him.  It  was  he  who 
organised  the  Hussar  force,  and  it  was  he  who  took  Vienna. 
Why  does  your  Government  always  send  fools  to  represent  it  at 
Vienna  ? 

Myself.  I  really  cannot  say ;  but  with  respect  to  the  Hussar 
force,  is  it  of  Hungarian  origin  ? 

Hungarian.  Its  name  shows  its  origin,  Huz,  in  Hungarian, 
is  twenty  and  the  Hussar  force  is  so  called  because  it  is  formed 
of  twentieths.  A  law  was  issued  by  which  it  was  ordered  that 
every  Hungarian  nobleman,  out  of  every  twenty  dependants,  should 
produce  a  well-equipped  horseman,  and  with  him  proceed  to  the 
field  of  battle. 

Myself.  Why  did  Matyas  capture  Vienna  ? 

Hungarian.  Because  the  Emperor  Frederick  took  part  against 
him  with  the  King  of  Poland,  who  claimed  the  kingdom  of 
Hungary  for  his  son,  and  had  also  assisted  the  Turk.  He 
captured  it  in  the  year  1487,  but  did  not  survive  his  triumph 
long,  expiring  there  in  the  year  1490.  He  was  so  veracious  a  man, 
that  it  was  said  of  him,  after  his  death,  "  Truth  died  with  Matyas  ". 
It  might  be  added  that  the  glory  of  Hungary  departed  with  him. 
I  wish  to  say  nothing  more  connected  with  Hungarian  history. 

Myself.  Another  word.    Did  Matyas  leave  a  son. 

Hungarian.  A  natural  son,  Hunyadi  John,  called  so  after  the 
great  man.  He  would  have  been  universally  acknowledged  as 
King  of  Hungary  but  for  the  illegitimacy  of  his  birth.  As  it  was, 
Ulaszlo,  the  son  of  the  King  of  Poland,  afterwards  called  Ulaszlo 
the  Second,  who  claimed  Hungary  as  being  descended  from 
Albert,  was  nominated  king  by  a  great  majority  of  the  Magyar 
electors.  Hunyadi  John  for  some  time  disputed  the  throne  with 
him ;  there  was  some  bloodshed,  but  Hunyadi  John  eventually 
submitted,  and  became  the  faithful  captain  of  Ulaszlo,  notwith- 
standing that  the  Turk  offered  to  assist  him  with  an  army  of  two 
hundred  thousand  men. 

Myself.  Go  on. 

Hungarian.  To  what?  Tche*  Drak,  to  the  Mohacs  Veszedelem. 
Ulaszlo  left  a  son,  Lajos  the  Second,  born  without  skin,  as  it  is 


I825-]  "C&  DRACU!"  231 

said ;  certainly  without  a  head.  He,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  all 
his  wise  counsellors, — and  amongst  them  was  Batory  Stephen,  who 
became  eventually  King  of  Poland — engaged,  with  twenty-five 
thousand  men,  at  Mohacs,  Soliman  the  Turk,  who  had  an  army  of 
two  hundred  thousand.  Drak !  the  Magyars  were  annihilated, 
King  Lajos  disappeared  with  his  heavy  horse  and  armour  in  a  bog 
We  call  that  battle,  which  was  fought  on  the  2Qth  of  August, 
1526,  the  destruction  of  Mohacs,  but  it  was  the  destruction  of 
Hungary. 

Myself.  You  have  twice  used  the  word  drak,  what  is  the 
meaning  of  it  ?  Is  it  Hungarian  ? 

Hungarian.  No  !  it  belongs  to  the  mad  Wallacks.  They  are 
a  nation  of  madmen  on  the  other  side  of  Transylvania.  Their 
country  was  formerly  a  fief  of  Hungary,  like  Moldavia,  which  is 
inhabited  by  the  same  race,  who  speak  the  same  language  and  are 
equally  mad. 

Myself.  What  language  do  they  speak  ? 

Hungarian.  A  strange  mixture  of  Latin  and  Sclavonian — they 
themselves  being  a  mixed  race  of  Romans  and  Sclavonians. 
Trajan  sent  certain  legions  to  form  military  colonies  in  Dacia ; 
and  the  present  Wallacks  and  Moldavians  are,  to  a  certain  extent, 
the  descendants  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  who  married  the  women 
of  the  country.  I  say  to  a  certain  extent,  for  the  Sclavonian 
element  both  in  blood  and  language  seems  to  prevail. 

Myself.  And  what  is  drak  ? 

Hungarian.  Dragon;  which  the  Wallacks  use  for  "devil". 
The  term  is  curious,  as  it  shows  that  the  old  Romans  looked 
upon  the  dragon  as  an  infernal  being. 

Myself.  You  have  been  in  Wallachia  ? 

Hungarian.  I  have,  and  glad  I  was  to  get  out  of  it.  I  hate 
the  mad  Wallacks. 

Myself.  Why  do  you  call  them  mad  ? 

Hungarian.  They  are  always  drinking  or  talking.  I  never 
saw  a  Wallachian  eating  or  silent.  They  talk  like  madmen,  and 
drink  like  madmen.  In  drinking  they  use  small  phials,  the 
contents  of  which  they  pour  down  their  throats.  When  I  first 
went  amongst  them  I  thought  the  whole  nation  was  under  a 
course  of  physic,  but  the  terrible  jabber  of  their  tongues  soon  un- 
deceived me.  Drak  was  the  first  word  I  heard  on  entering  Dacia, 
and  the  last  when  I  left  it.  The  Moldaves,  if  possible,  drink 
more,  and  talk  more  than  the  Wallachians. 

Myself.  It  is  singular  enough  that  the  only  Moldavian  I  have 
known  could  not  speak.  I  suppose  he  was  born  dumb. 


33*  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

Hungarian.  A  Moldavian  born  dumb !  Excuse  me,  the 
thing  is  impossible, — all  Moldavians  are  born  talking !  I  have 
known  a  Moldavian  who  could  not  speak,  but  he  was  not  born 
dumb.  His  master,  an  Armenian,  snipped  off  part  of  his  tongue 
at  Adrianople.  He  drove  him  mad  with  his  jabber.  He  is  now 
in  London,  where  his  master  has  a  house.  I  have  letters  of  credit 
on  the  house :  the  clerk  paid  me  money  in  London,  the  master 
was  absent ;  the  money  which  you  received  for  the  horse  belonged 
to  that  house. 

Myself.  Another  word  with  respect  to  Hungarian  history. 

Hungarian.  Drak !  I  wish  to  say  nothing  more  about  Hun 
garian  history. 

Myself.  The  Turk,  I  suppose,  after  Mohacs,  got  possession  of 
Hungary  ? 

Hungarian.  Not  exactly.  The  Turk,  upon  the  whole,  showed 
great  moderation ;  not  so  the  Austrian.  Ferdinand  the  First 
claimed  the  crown  of  Hungary  as  being  the  cousin  of  Maria, 
widow  of  Lajos;  he  found  too  many  disposed  to  support  him. 
His  claim,  however,  was  resisted  by  Zapolya  John,  a  Hungarian 
magnate,  who  caused  himself  to  be  elected  king.  Hungary  was 
for  a  long  time  devastated  by  wars  between  the  partisans  of 
Zapolya  and  Ferdinand.  At  last  Zapolya  called  in  the  Turk. 
Soliman  behaved  generously  to  him,  and  after  his  death  befriended 
his  young  son,  and  Isabella  his  queen ;  eventually  the  Turks 
became  masters  of  Transylvania  and  the  greater  part  of  Hungary. 
They  were  not  bad  masters,  and  had  many  friends  in  Hungary, 
especially  amongst  those  of  the  reformed  faith,  to  which  I  have 
myself  the  honour  of  belonging;  those  of  the  reformed  faith 
found  the  Mufti  more  tolerant  than  the  Pope.  Many  Hungarians 
went  with  the  Turks  to  the  siege  of  Vienna,  whilst  Tekeli  and  his 
horsemen  guarded  Hungary  for  them.  A  gallant  enterprise 
that  siege  of  Vienna,  the  last  great  effort  of  the  Turk ;  it  failed 
and  he  speedily  lost  Hungary,  but  he  did  not  sneak  from  Hungary 
like  a  frightened  hound.  His  defence  of  Buda  will  not  be  soon 
forgotten,  where  Apty  Basha,  the  governor,  died  fighting  like  a 
lion  in  the  breach.  There's  many  a  Hungarian  would  prefer 
Stamboul  to  Vienna.  Why  does  your  Government  always  send 
fools  to  represent  it  at  Vienna  ? 

Myself.  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  cannot  say.  What 
became  of  Tekeli  ? 

Hungarian.  When  Hungary  was  lost  he  retired  with  the  Turks 
into  Turkey.  Count  Renoncourt,  in  his  Memoirs,  mentions  having 
seen  him  at  Adrianople.  The  Sultan,  in  consideration  of  the 


1825.]  MAGYAR  VALOUR.  233 

services  which  he  had  rendered  to  the  Moslem  in  Hungary,  made 
over  the  revenues  of  certain  towns  and  districts  for  his  subsistence. 
The  count  says  that  he  always  went  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  was 
always  attended  by  a  young  female  dressed  in  male  attire,  who 
had  followed  him  in  his  wars,  and  had  more  than  once  saved  his 
life.  His  end  is  wrapped  in  mystery,  I — whose  greatest  boast, 
next  to  being  a  Hungarian,  is  to  be  of  his  blood — know  nothing 
of  his  end. 

Myself.  Allow  me  to  ask  who  you  are  ? 

Hungarian.  Egy  szegeny  Magyar  Nemes  ember^  a  poor  Hun- 
garian nobleman,  son  of  one  yet  poorer.  I  was  born  in  Transyl- 
vania, not  far  to  the  west  of  good  Coloscvar.  I  served  some  time 
in  the  Austrian  army  as  a  noble  Hussar,  but  am  now  equerry  to 
a  great  nobleman,  to  whom  I  am  distantly  related.  In  his  service 
I  have  travelled  far  and  wide,  buying  horses.  I  have  been  in 
Russia  and  in  Turkey,  and  am  now  at  Horncastle,  where  I  have 
had  the  satisfaction  to  meet  with  you,  and  to  buy  your  horse, 
which  is,  in  truth,  a  noble  brute. 

Myself.  For  a  soldier  and  equerry  you  seem  to  know  a  great 
deal  of  the  history  of  your  country. 

Hungarian.  All  I  know  is  derived  from  Florentius  of  Buda, 
whom  we  call  Budai  Ferentz.  He  was  professor  of  Greek  and 
Latin  at  the  Reformed  College  of  Debreczen,  where  I  was  edu- 
cated ;  he  wrote  a  work  entitled  Magyar  Polgari  Lexicon,  Lives 
of  Great  Hungarian  Citizens.  He  was  dead  before  I  was  born, 
but  I  found  his  book,  when  I  was  a  child,  in  the  solitary  home  of 
my  father,  which  stood  on  the  confines  of  a  puszta,  or  wilderness, 
and  that  book  I  used  to  devour  in  winter  nights  when  the  winds 
were  whistling  around  the  house.  Oh  !  how  my  blood  used  to 
glow  at  the  descriptions  of  Magyar  valour,  and  likewise  of  Turkish ; 
for  Florentius  has  always  done  justice  to  the  Turk.  Many  a 
passage  similar  to  this  have  I  got  by  heart ;  it  is  connected  with 
a  battle  on  the  plain  of  Rigo,  which  Hunyadi  lost:  "The  next 
day,  which  was  Friday,  as  the  two  armies  were  drawn  up  in  battle 
array,  a  Magyar  hero,  riding  forth,  galloped  up  and  down,  challeng- 
ing the  Turks  to  single  combat.  Then  came  out  to  meet  him 
the  son  of  a  renowned  bashaw  of  Asia ;  rushing  upon  each  other, 
both  broke  their  lances,  but  the  Magyar  hero  and  his  horse  rolled 
over  upon  the  ground,  for  the  Turks  had  always  the  best  horses." 
O  young  man  of  Horncastle  !  if  ever  you  learn  Hungarian — and 
learn  it  assuredly  you  will  after  what  I  have  told  you — read  the 
book  of  Florentius  of  Buda,  even  if  you  go  to  Hungary  to  get  it, 
for  you  will  scarcely  find  it  elsewhere,  and  even  there  with  difft- 


334  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

culty,  for  the  book  has  been  long  out  of  print.  It  describes  the 
actions  of  the  great  men  of  Hungary  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
sixteenth  century  ;  and  besides  being  written  in  the  purest  Hun- 
garian, has  the  merit  of  having  for  its  author  a  professor  of  the 
Reformed  College  at  Debreczen. 

Myself.  I  will  go  to  Hungary  rather  than  not  read  it.  I  am 
glad  that  the  Turk  beat  the  Magyar.  When  I  used  to  read  the 
ballads  of  Spain  I  always  sided  with  the  Moor  against  the  Christian. 

Hungarian.  It  was  a  drawn  fight  after  all,  for  the  terrible 
horse  of  the  Turk  presently  flung  his  own  master,  whereupon  the 
two  champions  returned  to  their  respective  armies;  but  in  the 
grand  conflict  which  ensued,  the  Turks  beat  the  Magyars,  pursuing 
them  till  night,  and  striking  them  on  the  necks  with  their  scimi- 
tars. The  Turk  is  a  noble  fellow ;  I  should  wish  to  be  a  Turk, 
were  I  not  a  Magyar. 

Myself.  The  Turk  always  keeps  his  word,  I  am  told. 

Hungarian.  Which  the  Christian  very  seldom  does,  and  even 
the  Hungarian  does  not  always.  In  1444  Ulaszlo  made,  at 
Szeged,  peace  with  Amurath  for  ten  years,  which  he  swore  with 
an  oath  to  keep,  but  at  the  instigation  of  the  Pope  Julian  he 
broke  it,  and  induced  his  great  captain,  Hunyadi  John,  to  share 
in  the  perjury.  The  consequence  was  the  battle  of  Varna,  of  the 
loth  of  November,  in  which  Hunyadi  was  routed,  and  Ulaszlo 
slain.  Did  you  ever  hear  his  epitaph?  it  is  both  solemn  and 
edifying : — 

Romulidae  Cannas  ego  Varnam  clade  notavi ; 
Discite  mortales  non  temerare  fidem  : 
Me  nisi  Pontifices  jussissent  rumpere  fcedus 
Non  ferret  Scythicum  Pannonis  ora  jugum. 

"  Halloo  ! "  said  the  jockey,  starting  up  from  a  doze  in  which 
he  had  been  indulging  for  the  last  hour,  his  head  leaning  upon 
his  breast,  "  what  is  that?  That's  not  High  Dutch  ;  I  bargained 
for  High  Dutch,  and  I  left  you  speaking  what  I  believed  to  be  High 
Dutch,  as  it  sounded  very  much  like  the  language  of  horses,  as 
I  have  been  told  High  Dutch  does ;  but  as  for  what  you  are 
speaking  now,  whatever  you  may  call  it,  it  sounds  more  like  the 
language  of  another  kind  of  animal.  I  suppose  you  want  to 
insult  me,  because  I  was  once  a  dicky-boy.'' 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  I ;  "the  gentleman  was  making 
a  quotation  in  Latin." 

"  Latin,  was  it  ? "  said  the  jockey ;  "  that  alters  the  case. 
Latin  is  genteel,  and  I  have  sent  my  eldest  boy  to  an  academy  to 


1825.]  THE  RUSSIANS.  235 

learn  it.  Come,  let  us  hear  you  fire  away  in  Latin,"  he  continued, 
proceeding  to  relight  his  pipe,  which,  before  going  to  sleep,  he 
had  laid  on  the  table. 

"If  you  wish  to  follow  the  discourse  in  Latin,"  said  the 
Hungarian,  in  very  bad  English,  "I  can  oblige  you;  I  learned 
to  speak  very  good  Latin  in  the  college  of  Debreczen." 

"That's  more,"  said  I,  "than  I  have  done  in  the  colleges 
where  I  have  been ;  in  any  little  conversation  which  we  may  yet 
have,  I  wish  you  would  use  German." 

"Well,"  said  the  jockey,  taking  a  whiff,  "make  your  conver- 
sation as  short  as  possible,  whether  in  Latin  or  Dutch,  for,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  rather  tired  of  merely  playing  listener." 

"You  were  saying  you  had  been  in  Russia,"  said  I;  "I 
believe  the  Russians  are  part  of  the  Sclavonian  race." 

Hungarian.  Yes,  part  of  the  great  Sclavonian  family  ;  one  of 
the  most  numerous  races  in  the  world.  The  Russians  themselves 
are  very  numerous ;  would  that  the  Magyars  could  boast  of  the 
fifth  part  of  their  number ! 

Myself.  What  is  the  number  of  the  Magyars  ? 

Hungarian.  Barely  four  millions.  We  came  a  tribe  of  Tartars 
into  Europe,  and  settled  down  amongst  Sclavonians,  whom  we 
conquered,  but  who  never  coalesced  with  us.  The  Austrian 
at  present  plays  in  Pannonia  the  Sclavonian  against  us,  and  us 
against  the  Sclavonian;  but  the  downfall  of  the  Austrian  is  at 
hand ;  they,  like  us,  are  not  a  numerous  people. 

Myself.  Who  will  bring  about  his  downfall  ? 

Hungarian.  The  Russians.  The  Rysckie  Tsar  will  lead  his 
people  forth,  all  the  Sclavonians  will  join  him,  he  will  conquer  all 
before  him. 

Myself.  Are  the  Russians  good  soldiers  ? 

Hungarian.  They  are  stubborn  and  unflinching  to  an  astonish- 
ing degree,  and  their  fidelity  to  their  Tsar  is  quite  admirable. 
See  how  the  Russians  behaved  at  Plescova,  in  Livonia,  in  the  old 
time,  against  our  great  Batory  Stephen  ;  they  defended  the  place 
till  it  was  a  heap  of  rubbish,  and  mark  how  they  behaved  after 
they  had  been  made  prisoners.  Stephen  offered  them  two 
alternatives :  to  enter  into  his  service,  in  which  they  would 
have  good  pay,  clothing  and  fair  treatment ;  or  to  be  allowed  to 
return  to  Russia.  Without  the  slightest  hesitation  they,  to  a 
man,  chose  the  latter,  though  well  aware  that  their  beloved  Tsar, 
the  cruel  Ivan  Basilowits,  would  put  them  all  to  death,  amidst 
tortures  the  most  horrible,  for  not  doing  what  was  impossible — 
preserving  the  town. 


236  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

Myself.  You  speak  Russian  ? 

Hungarian.  A  little.  I  was  born  in  the  vicinity  of  a  Sclavonian 
tribe ;  the  servants  of  our  house  were  Sclavonians,  and  I  early 
acquired  something  of  their  language,  which  differs  not  much 
from  that  of  Russia ;  when  in  that  country  I  quickly  understood 
what  was  said. 

Myself.  Have  the  Russians  any  literature  ? 

Hungarian.  Doubtless ;  but  I  am  not  acquainted  with  it,  as  I 
do  not  read  their  language ;  but  I  know  something  of  their  popular 
tales,  to  which  I  used  to  listen  in  their  izbushkas ;  a  principal 
personage  in  these  is  a  creation  quite  original — called  Baba  Yaga. 

Myself.  Who  is  Baba  Yaga? 

Hungarian.  A  female  phantom,  who  is  described  as  hurrying 
along  the  puszta,  or  steppe,  in  a  mortar,  pounding  with  a  pestle 
at  a  tremendous  rate,  and  leaving  a  long  trace  on  the  ground  be- 
hind her  with  her  tongue,  which  is  three  yards  long,  and  with 
which  she  seizes  any  men  and  horses  coming  in  her  way,  swallow- 
ing them  down  into  her  capacious  belly.  She  has  several  daughters, 
very  handsome,  and  with  plenty  of  money ;  happy  the  young 
Mujik  who  catches  and  marries  one  of  them,  for  they  make 
excellent  wives. 

"  Many  thanks,"  said  I,  "  for  the  information  you  have  afforded 
me  :  this  is  rather  poor  wine,"  I  observed,  as  I  poured  out  a  glass  ; 
"  I  suppose  you  have  better  wine  in  Hungary?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  better  wine  in  Hungary.  First  of  all  there 
is  Tokay,  the  most  celebrated  in  the  world,  though  I  confess  I 
prefer  the  wine  of  Eger — Tokay  is  too  sweet." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  at  Tokay?" 

"  I  have,"  said  the  Hungarian. 

"  What  kind  of  place  is  Tokay  ?  " 

"  A  small  town  situated  on  the  Tyzza,  a  rapid  river  descending 
from  the  north ;  the  Tokay  Mountain  is  just  behind  the  town, 
which  stands  on  the  right  bank.  The  top  or  the  mountain  is 
called  Kopacs  Teto,  or  the  bald  tip;  the  hill  is  so  steep  that 
during  thunderstorms  pieces  of  it  frequently  fall  down  upon  the 
roofs  of  the  houses.  It  was  planted  with  vines  by  King  Lajos, 
who  ascended  the  throne  in  the  year  1342.  The  best  wine 
called  Tokay  is,  however,  not  made  at  Tokay,  but  at  Kassau,  two 
leagues  farther  into  the  Carpathians,  of  which  Tokay  is  a  spur. 
If  you  wish  to  drink  the  best  Tokay,  you  must  go  to  Vienna,  to 
which  place  all  the  prime  is  sent.  For  the  third  time  I  ask  you, 
O  young  man  of  Horncastle !  why  does  your  Government  always 
send  fools  to  represent  it  at  Vienna  ?  " 


1825.]  TOKAY.  337 

"And  for  the  third  time  I  tell  you,  O  son  of  Almus!  that  I 
cannot  say ;  perhaps,  however,  to  drink  the  sweet  Tokay  wine ; 
fools,  you  know,  always  like  sweet  things." 

"Good,"  said  the  Hungarian;  "it  must  be  so,  and  when  I 
return  to  Hungary,  I  will  state  to  my  countrymen  your  explana- 
tion of  a  circumstance  which  has  frequently  caused  them  great 
perplexity.  Oh !  the  English  are  a  clever  people,  and  have  a 
deep  meaning  in  all  they  do.  What  a  vision  of  deep  policy  opens 
itself  to  my  view !  they  do  not  send  their  fool  to  Vienna  in  order 
to  gape  at  processions,  and  to  bow  and  scrape  at  a  base  Papist 
court,  but  to  drink  at  the  great  dinners  the  celebrated  Tokay 
of  Hungary,  which  the  Hungarians,  though  they  do  not  drink  it, 
are  very  proud  of,  and  by  doing  so  to  intimate  the  sympathy  which 
the  English  entertain  for  their  fellow  religionists  of  Hungary.  Oh  ! 
the  English  are  a  deep  people." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  pipe  of  the  Hungarian  had,  for  some  time  past,  exhibited 
considerable  symptoms  of  exhaustion,  little  or  no  ruttling  having 
been  heard  in  the  tube,  and  scarcely  a  particle  of  smoke,  drawn 
through  the  syphon,  having  been  emitted  from  the  lips  of  the 
possessor.  He  now  rose  from  his  seat,  and  going  to  a  corner 
of  the  room,  placed  his  pipe  against  the  wall,  then  striding  up  and 
down  the  room,  he  cracked  his  fingers  several  times,  exclaiming,  in 
a  half-musing  manner  :  "  Oh,  the  deep  nation,  which,  in  order  to 
display  its  sympathy  for  Hungary,  sends  its  fool  to  Vienna,  to 
drink  the  sweet  wine  of  Tokay ! " 

The  jockey,  having  looked  for  some  time  at  the  tall  figure  with 
evident  approbation,  winked  at  me  with  that  brilliant  eye  of  his 
on  which  there  was  no  speck,  saying  :  "  Did  you  ever  see  a  taller 
fellow?" 

"Never,"  said  I. 

"Or  a  finer?" 

"That's  another  question,"  said  I,  "which  I  am  not  so 
willing  to  answer ;  however,  as  I  am  fond  of  truth,  and  scorn  to 
flatter,  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  saying  that  I  have  seen  a  finer." 

"A  finer!  where?"  said  the  jockey;  whilst  the  Hungarian, 
who  appeared  to  understand  what  we  said,  stood  still,  and  looked 
full  at  me. 

"Amongst  a  strange  set  of  people,"  said  I,  "whom,  if  I  were 
to  name,  you  would,  I  daresay,  only  laugh  at  me." 

"  Who  be  they  ?  "  said  the  jockey.  "  Come,  don't  be  ashamed ; 
I  have  occasionally  kept  queerish  company  myself." 

"The  people  whom  we  call  gypsies,"  said  I;  "whom  the 
Germans  call  Zigeuner,  and  who  call  themselves  Romany  chals." 

"Zigeuner!"  said  the  Hungarian;  "by  Isten !  I  do  know 
those  people." 

"  Romany  chals  !  "  said  the  jockey  ;  "  whew  !  I  begin  to  smell 
a  rat." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  smelling  a  rat?  "  said  I. 

"  I'll  bet  a  crown,"  said  the  jockey,  "  that  you  be  the  young 
chap  what  certain  folks  call  '  the  Romany  Rye '." 


THE  DISCOVERY.  239 


"  Ah  !  "  said  I,  "  how  came  you  to  know  that  name  ?  " 

"  Be  not  you  he?  "  said  the  jockey. 

"Why,  I  certainly  have  been  called  by  that  name." 

"  I  could  have  sworn  it,"  said  the  jockey  ;  then  rising  from  his 
chair,  he  laid  his  pipe  on  the  table,  took  a  large  hand-bell  which 
stood  on  the  sideboard,  and  going  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
commenced  ringing  in  a  most  tremendous  manner  on  the  stair- 
case. The  noise  presently  brought  up  a  waiter,  to  whom  the 
jockey  vociferated,  "Go  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  to  send 
immediately  three  bottles  of  champagne,  of  the  pink  kind,  mind 
you,  which  is  twelve  guineas  a  dozen  "  ;  the  waiter  hurried  away, 
and  the  jockey  resumed  his  seat  and  his  pipe.  I  sat  in  silent 
astonishment  until  the  waiter  returned  with  a  basket  containing 
the  wine,  which,  with  three  long  glasses,  he  placed  on  the  table. 
The  jockey  then  got  up,  and  going  to  a  large  bow  window  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  which  looked  into  a  courtyard,  peeped  out; 
then  saying,  "  the  coast  is  clear,"  he  shut  down  the  principal  sash 
which  was  open  for  the  sake  of  the  air,  and  taking  up  a  bottle  of 
champagne,  he  placed  another  in  the  hands  of  the  Hungarian,  to 
whom  he  said  something  in  private.  The  latter,  who  seemed  to 
understand  him,  answered  by  a  nod.  The  two  then  going  to  the 
end  of  the  table  fronting  the  window,  and  about  eight  paces  from 
it,  stood  before  it,  holding  the  bottles  by  their  necks  ;  suddenly 
the  jockey  lifted  up  his  arm.  "  Surely,"  said  I,  "  you  are  not  mad 
enough  to  fling  that  bottle  through  the  window?"  "Here's  to 
the  Romany  Rye  ;  here's  to  the  sweet  master,"  said  the  jockey, 
dashing  the  bottle  through  a  pane  in  so  neat  a  manner  that 
scarcely  a  particle  of  glass  fell  into  the  room. 

"  Eljen  edes  csigany  ur  —  eljen  gul  eray  !  "  said  the  Hungarian, 
swinging  round  his  bottle,  and  discharging  it  at  the  window  ;  but, 
either  not  possessing  the  jockey's  accuracy  of  aim,  or  reckless  of 
consequences,  he  flung  his  bottle  so,  that  it  struck  against  part 
of  the  wooden  setting  of  the  panes,  breaking  along  with  the  wood 
and  itself  three  or  four  panes  to  pieces.  The  crash  was  horrid, 
and  wine  and  particles  of  glass  flew  back  into  the  room,  to  the  no 
small  danger  of  its  inmates.  "  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  said 
the  jockey  ;  "  were  you  ever  so  honoured  before  ?  "  "  Honoured  !  " 
said  I.  "  God  preserve  me  in  future  from  such  honour  ;  "  and  I 
put  my  finger  to  my  cheek,  which  was  slightly  hurt  by  a  particle 
of  the  glass.  "That's  the  way  we  of  the  cofrady  honour  great 
men  at  Horncastle,"  said  the  jockey,  "What,  you  are  hurt! 
never  mind  ;  all  the  better  ;  your  scratch  shows  that  you  are  the 
body  the  compliment  was  paid  to,"  (<  And  what  are  yoii  going 


340  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

to  do  with  the  other  bottle  ?"  said  I.  "  Do  with  it !  "  said  the 
jockey,  "why,  drink  it,  cosily  and  comfortably,  whilst  holding 
a  little  quiet  talk.  The  Romany  Rye  at  Horncastle,  what  an 
idea! " 

"  And  what  will  the  master  of  the  house  say  to  all  this  damage 
which  you  have  caused  him  ! " 

"What  will  your  master  say,  William  ?"  said  the  jockey  to  the 
waiter,  who  had  witnessed  the  singular  scene  just  described  with- 
out exhibiting  the  slightest  mark  of  surprise.  William  smiled, 
and  slightly  shrugging  his  shoulders,  replied  :  "  Very  little,  I  dare 
ssy,  sir ;  this  a'n't  the  first  time  your  honour  has  done  a  thing  of 
this  kind  ".  "  Nor  will  it  be  the  first  time  that  I  shall  have  paid 
for  it,"  said  the  jockey;  "well,  I  shall  never  have  paid  for  a 
certain  item  in  the  bill  with  more  pleasure  than  I  shall  pay  for 
it  now.  Come,  William,  draw  the  cork,  and  let  us  taste  the  pink 
champagne." 

The  waiter  drew  the  cork,  and  filled  the  glasses  with  a  pinky 
liquor,  which  bubbled,  hissed  and  foamed.  "  How  do  you  like 
it  ?  "  said  the  jockey,  after  I  had  imitated  the  example  of  my  com- 
panions, by  despatching  my  portion  at  a  draught. 

"  It  is  wonderful  wine,"  said  I ;  "  I  have  never  tasted  champagne 
before,  though  I  have  frequently  heard  it  praised ;  it  more  than 
answers  my  expectations ;  but,  I  confess,  I  should  not  wish  to  be 
obliged  to  drink  it  every  day." 

"Nor  I,"  said  the  jockey,  "for  everyday  drinking  give  me  a 
glass  of  old  port,  or " 

"Of  hard  old  ale,"  I  interposed,  "which,  according  to  my 
mind,  is  better  than  all  the  wine  in  the  world." 

"Well  said,  Romany  Rye,"  said  the  jockey,  "just  my  own 
opinion;  now,  William,  make  yourself  scarce." 

The  waiter  withdrew,  and  I  said  to  the  jockey :  "  How  did  you 
become  acquainted  with  the  Romany  chals  ?  " 

"  I  first  became  acquainted  with  them,"  said  the  jockey, 
"  when  I  lived  with  old  Fulcher  the  basketmaker,  who  took  me 
up  when  I  was  adrift  upon  the  world ;  I  do  not  mean  the  present 
Fulcher,  who  is  likewise  called  old  Fulcher,  but  his  father,  who 
has  been  dead  this  many  a  year;  while  living  with  him  in  the 
caravan,  I  frequently  met  them  in  the  green  lanes,  and  of  latter 
years  I  have  had  occasional  dealings  with  them  in  the  horse  line." 

"And  the  gypsies  have  mentioned  me  to  you ?"  said  I. 

"  Frequently,"  said  the  jockey,  "  and  not  only  those  of  these 
parts ;  why,  there's  scarcely  a  part  of  England  in  which  I  have 
not  heard  the  name  of  the  Romany  Rye  mentioned  by  these 


i825-]  THOR  AND  TZERNEBOCK.  341 

people.  The  power  you  have  over  them  is  wonderful ;  that  is,  I 
should  have  thought  it  wonderful,  had  they  not  more  than  once 
told  me  the  cause." 

"And  what  is  the  cause?"  said  I,  "for  I  am  sure  I  do  not 
know." 

"The  cause  is  this,"  said  the  jockey,  "they  never  heard  a 
bad  word  proceed  from  your  mouth,  and  never  knew  you  do  a 
bad  thing." 

"  They  are  a  singular  people,"  said  I. 

"  And  what  a  singular  language  they  have  got,"  said  the  jockey. 

"  Do  you  know  it  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Only  a  few  words,"  said  the  jockey ;  "  they  were  always  chary 
in  teaching  me  any." 

"  They  were  vary  sherry  to  me  to,"  said  the  Hungarian, 
speaking  in  broken  English;  "I  only  could  learn  from  them 
half  a  dozen  words,  for  example,  gul  eray,  which,  in  the  czigany 
of  my  country,  means  sweet  gentleman,  or  edes  ur  in  my  own 
Magyar." 

"Gudlo  Rye,  in  the  Romany  of  mine,  means  a  sugar'd 
gentleman,"  said  I;  "then  there  are  gypsies  in  your  country?" 

"  Plenty,"  said  the  Hungarian,  speaking  German,  "  and  in 
Russia  and  Turkey  too ;  and  wherever  they  are  found,  they  are 
alike  in  their  ways  and  language.  Oh,  they  are  a  strange  race, 
and  how  little  known  !  I  know  little  of  them,  but  enough  to 
say  that  one  horse-load  of  nonsense  has  been  written  about 
them ;  there  is  one  Valter  Scott " 

"  Mind  what  you  say  about  him,"  said  I ;  "he  is  our  grand 
authority  in  matters  of  philology  and  history." 

"A  pretty  philologist,"  said  the  Hungarian,  "who  makes 
the  gypsies  speak  Roth-Welsch,  the  dialect  of  thieves ;  a  pretty 
historian,  who  couples  together  Thor  and  Tzernebock." 

"  Where  does  he  do  that  ?  "  said  I. 

"  In  his  conceited  romance  of  Ivanhoe^  he  couples  Thor  and 
Tzernebock  together,  and  calls  them  gods  of  the  heathen  Saxons." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "Thur  or  Thor  was  certainly  a  god  of  the 
heathen  Saxons." 

"True,"  said  the  Hungarian;  "but  why  couple  him  with 
Tzernebock?  Tzernebock  was  a  word  which  your  Valter  had 
picked  up  somewhere  without  knowing  the  meaning.  Tzernebock 
was  no  god  of  the  Saxons,  but  one  of  the  gods  of  the  Sclaves,  on 
the  southern  side  of  the  Baltic.  The  Sclaves  had  two  grand  gods 
to  whom  they  sacrificed,  Tzernebock  and  Bielebock ;  that  is,  the 
black  and  white  gods,  who  represented  the  powers  of  dark  and 

16 


242  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

light.  They  were  overturned  by  Waldemar,  the  Dane,  the  great 
enemy  of  the  Sclaves ;  the  account  of  whose  wars  you  will  find  in 
one  fine  old  book,  written  by  Saxo  Gramaticus,  which  I  read  in 
the  library  of  the  college  of  Debreczen.  The  Sclaves,  at  one 
time,  were  masters  of  all  the  southern  shore  of  the  Baltic,  where 
their  descendants  are  still  to  be  found,  though  they  have  lost  their 
language,  and  call  themselves  Germans ;  but  the  word  Zernevitz 
near  Dantzic,  still  attests  that  the  Sclavic  language  was  once 
common  in  those  parts.  Zernevitz  means  the  thing  of  black- 
ness, as  Tzernebock  means  the  god  of  blackness.  Prussia  itself 
merely  means,  in  Sclavish,  Lower  Russia.  There  is  scarcely  a  race 
or  language  in  the  world  more  extended  than  the  Sclavic.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  Dunau  you  will  find  the  Sclaves  and  their 
language.  Czernavoda  is  Sclavic,  and  means  black  water;  in 
Turkish,  kara  su ;  even  as  Tzernebock  means  black  god ;  and 
Belgrade,  or  Belograd,  means  the  white  town,  even  as  Biele- 
bock,  or  Bielebog,  means  the  white  god.  Oh !  he  is  one  great 
ignorant,  that  Valter.  He  is  going,  they  say,  to  write  one  history 
about  Napoleon.  I  do  hope  that  in  his  history  he  will  couple 
his  Thor  and  Tzernebock  together.  By  my  God !  it  would  be 
good  diversion  that." 

"  Walter  Scott  appears  to  be  no  particular  favourite  of  yours," 
said  I. 

"  He  is  not,"  said  the  Hungarian  ;  "  I  hate  him  for  his  slavish 
principles.  He  wishes  to  see  absolute  power  restored  in  this 
country,  and  Popery  also — and  I  hate  him  because — what  do 
you  think  ?  In  one  of  his  novels,  published  a  few  months  ago, 
he  has  the  insolence  to  insult  Hungary  in  the  person  of  one 
of  her  sons.  He  makes  his  great  braggart,  Cceur  de  Lion,  fling 
a  Magyar  over  his  head.  Ha !  it  was  well  for  Richard  that 
he  never  felt  the  gripe  of  a  Hungarian.  I  wish  the  braggart 
could  have  felt  the  grip  of  me,  who  am  '  a'  magyarok  kozt  legkis- 
stbb,'  the  least  among  the  Magyars.  I  do  hate  that  Scott,  and 
all  his  vile  gang  of  Lowlanders  and  Highlanders.  The  black 
corps,  the  fekete  regiment  of  Matyas  Hunyadi,  was  worth  all 
the  Scots,  high  or  low,  that  ever  pretended  to  be  soldiers ;  and 
would  have  sent  them  all  headlong  into  the  Black  Sea,  had  they 
dared  to  confront  it  on  its  shores  ;  but  why  be  angry  with 
an  ignorant,  who  couples  together  Thor  and  Tzernebock  ?  Ha  ! 
Ha!" 

"You  have  read  his  novels?"  said  I. 

"Yes,  I  read  them  now  and  then.  I  do  not  speak  much 
English,  but  I  can  read  it  well,  and  I  have  read  some  of  his 


1825.]  1VANHOB.  343 

romances  and  mean  to  read  his  Napoleon,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
Thor  and  Tzernebock  coupled  together  in  it,  as  in  his  high-flying 
Ivanhoe" 

"  Come,"  said  the  jockey,  "  no  more  Dutch,  whether  high 
or  low.  I  am  tired  of  it ;  unless  we  can  have  some  English, 
I  am  off  to  bed." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  some  English,"  said  I,  "  especi- 
ally from  your  mouth.  Several  things  which  you  have  mentioned, 
have  awakened  my  curiosity.  Suppose  you  give  us  your  history  ?  " 

"  My  history  ? ''  said  the  jockey.  "  A  rum  idea  !  however,  less 
conversation  should  lag,  I'll  give  it  you.  First  of  all,  however, 
a  glass  of  champagne  to  each." 

After  we  had  each  taken  a  glass  of  champagne,  the  jockey 
commenced  his  history. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

"  MY  grandfather  was  a  shorter,  and  my  father  was  a  smasher ; 
the  one  was  scragg'd,  and  the  other  lagg'd." 

I  here  interrupted  the  jockey  by  observing  that  his  discourse 
was,  for  the  greater  part,  unintelligible  to  me. 

"I  do  not  understand  much  English,"  said  the  Hungarian, 
who,  having  replenished  and  resumed  his  mighty  pipe,  was  now 
smoking  away ;  but,  by  Isten,  I  believe  it  is  the  gibberish  which 
that  great  ignorant  Valter  Scott  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  folks 
he  calls  gypsies." 

"  Something  like  it,  I  confess,"  said  I,  "  though  this  sounds 
more  genuine  than  his  dialect,  which  he  picked  up  out  of  the 
canting  vocabulary  at  the  end  of  the  English  Rogue,  a  book 
which,  however  despised,  was  written  by  a  remarkable  genius. 
What  do  you  call  the  speech  you  were  using  ?  "  said  I,  addressing 
myself  to  the  jockey. 

"  Latin,"  said  the  jockey  very  coolly  ;  "  that  is,  that  dialect 
of  it  which  is  used  by  the  light-fingered  gentry." 

"  He  is  right,"  said  the  Hungarian ;  "it  is  what  the  Germans 
call  Roth-Welsch :  they  call  it  so  because  there  are  a  great  many 
Latin  words  in  it,  introduced  by  the  priests,  who,  at  the  time 
of  the  Reformation,  being  too  lazy  to  work  and  too  stupid  to 
preach,  joined  the  bands  of  thieves  and  robbers  who  prowled 
about  the  country.  Italy,  as  you  are  aware,  is  called  by  the 
Germans  Welschland,  or  the  land  of  the  Welschers ;  and  I  may 
add  that  Wallachia  derives  its  name  from  a  colony  of  Welschers 
which  Trajan  sent  there.  Welsch  and  Wallack  being  one  and 
the  same  word,  and  tantamount  to  Latin." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  I ;  "  but  why  was  Italy 
termed  Welschland?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  Hungarian. 

"Then  I  think  I  can  tell  you,"  said  I;  "it  was  called 
so  because  the  original  inhabitants  were  a  Cimbric  tribe,  who 
were  called  Gwyltiad,  that  is,  a  race  of  wild  people,  living 
in  coverts,  who  were  of  the  same  blood,  and  spoke  the  same 
language  as  the  present  inhabitants  of  Wales.  Welsh  seems 

(244) 


I825-]  THE  JOCKETS  TALE.  245 

merely  a  modification  of  Gwyltiad.  Pray,  continue  your  history," 
said  I  to  the  jockey,  "  only  please  to  do  so  in  a  language  which 
we  can  understand,  and  first  of  all  interpret  the  sentence  with 
which  you  began  it." 

"I  told  you  that  my  grandfather  was  a  shorter,"  said  the 
jockey,  "  by  which  is  meant  a  gentleman  who  shortens  or  reduces 
the  current  coin  of  these  realms,  for  which  practice  he  was  scragged, 
that  is,  hung  by  the  scrag  of  the  neck.  And  when  I  said  that 
my  father  was  a  smasher,  I  meant  one  who  passes  forged  notes, 
thereby  doing  his  best  to  smash  the  Bank  of  England ;  by  being 
lagged,  I  meant  he  was  laid  fast,  that  is,  had  a  chain  put  round 
his  leg  and  then  transported." 

"Your  explanations  are  perfectly  satisfactory,"  said  I;  "the 
three  first  words  are  metaphorical,  and  the  fourth,  lagged,  is  the 
old  genuine  Norse  term,  lagda,  which  signifies  laid,  whether  in 
durance,  or  in  bed,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  What 
you  have  told  me  confirms  me  in  an  opinion  which  I  have  long 
entertained,  that  thieves'  Latin  is  a  strange,  mysterious  speech, 
formed  of  metaphorical  terms,  and  words  derived  from  various 
ancient  languages.  Pray,  tell  me,  now,  how  the  gentleman,  your 
grandfather,  contrived  to  shorten  the  coin  of  these  realms  ?  " 

"  You  shall  hear,"  said  the  jockey ;  "but  I  have  one  thing  to 
beg  of  you,  which  is,  that  when  I  have  once  begun  my  history 
you  will  not  interrupt  me  with  questions.  I  don't  like  them,  they 
stops  one,  and  puts  one  out  of  one's  tale,  and  are  not  wanted ; 
for  anything  which  I  think  can't  be  understood,  I  should  myself 
explain,  without  being  asked.  My  grandfather  reduced  or  shortened 
the  coin  of  this  country  by  three  processes :  by  aquafortis,  by 
clipping  and  by  filing.  Filing  and  clipping  he  employed  in 
reducing  all  kinds  of  coin,  whether  gold  or  silver ;  but  aquafortis  he 
used  merely  in  reducing  gold  coin,  whether  guineas,  jacobuses  or 
Portugal  pieces,  otherwise  called  moidores,  which  were  at  one 
time  as  current  as  guineas.  By  laying  a  guinea  in  aquafortis  for 
twelve  hours,  he  could  filch  from  it  to  the  value  of  ninepence, 
and  by  letting  it  remain  there  for  twenty-four  to  the  value  of 
eighteenpence,  the  aquafortis  eating  the  gold  away,  and  leaving 
it  like  a  sediment  in  the  vessel.  He  was  generally  satisfied  with 
taking  the  value  of  ninepence  from  a  guinea,  of  eighteenpence 
from  a  jacobus  or  moidore,  or  half  a  crown  from  a  broad  Spanish 
piece,  whether  he  reduced  them  by  aquafortis,  filing  or  clipping. 
From  a  five-shilling  piece,  which  is  called  a  bull  in  Latin,  because 
it  is  round  like  a  bull's  head,  he  would  file  or  clip  to  the  value  of 
fivepence,  and  from  lesser  coin  in  proportion.  He  was  connected 


246  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

with  a  numerous  gang,  or  set,  of  people,  who  had  given  up  their 
minds  and  talents  entirely  to  shortening." 

Here  I  interrupted  the  jockey.  "  How  singular,"  said  I,  "  is 
the  fall  and  debasement  of  words  ;  you  talk  of  a  gang,  or  set,  of 
shorters ;  you  are,  perhaps,  not  aware  that  gang  and  set  were,  a 
thousand  years  ago,  only  connected  with  the  great  and  Divine  ; 
they  are  ancient  Norse  words,  which  may  be  found  in  the  heroic 
poems  of  the  north,  and  in  the  Edda,  a  collection  of  mythologic 
and  heroic  songs.  In  these  poems  we  read  that  such  and  such  a 
king  invaded  Norway  with  a  gang  of  heroes ;  or  so  and  so,  for 
example,  Erik  Bloodaxe,  was  admitted  to  the  set  of  gods ;  but  at 
present  gang  and  set  are  merely  applied  to  the  vilest  of  the  vile, 
and  the  lowest  of  the  low, — -we  say  a  gang  of  thieves  and  shorters, 
or  a  set  of  authors.  How  touching  is  this  debasement  of  words 
in  the  course  of  time ;  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  decay  of  old 
houses  and  names.  I  have  known  a  Mortimer  who  was  a  hedger 
and  ditcher,  a  Berners  who  was  born  in  a  workhouse,  and  a 
descendant  of  the  De  Burghs,  who  bore  the  falcon,  mending  old 
kettles,  and  making  horse  and  pony  shoes  in  a  dingle." 

"Odd  enough,"  said  the  jockey;  "but  you  were  saying  you 
knew  one  Berners — man  or  woman?  I  would  ask." 

"A  woman,"  said  I. 

"  What  might  her  Christian  name  be  ?  "  said  the  jockey. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  mentioned  lightly,"  said  I  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  Isopel,"  said  the  jockey  with 
an  arch  glance  of  his  one  brilliant  eye. 

"It  was  Isopel,"  said  I;  "did  you  know  Isopel  Berners?" 

"  Aye,  and  have  reason  to  know  her,"  said  the  jockey,  putting 
his  hand  into  his  left  waistcoat  pocket,  as  if  to  feel  for  something, 
"for  she  gave  me  what  I  believe  few  men  could  do — a  most 
confounded  whopping.  But  now,  Mr.  Romany  Rye,  I  have 
again  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  like  to  be  interrupted  when  I'm 
speaking,  and  to  add  that  if  you  break  in  upon  me  a  third  time, 
you  and  I  shall  quarrel." 

"  Pray,  proceed  with  your  story,"  said  I ;  "  I  will  not  interrupt 
you  again." 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  jockey.  "  Where  was  I  ?  Oh,  with  a  set 
of  people  who  had  given  up  their  minds  to  shortening  !  Reducing 
the  coin,  though  rather  a  lucrative,  was  a  very  dangerous  trade. 
Coin  filed  felt  rough  to  the  touch ;  coin  clipped  could  be  easily 
detected  by  the  eye ;  and  as  for  coin  reduced  by  aquafortis,  it 
was  generally  so  discoloured  that,  unless  a  great  deal  of  pains  was 
used  to  polish  it,  people  were  apt  to  stare  at  it  in  a  strange 


1825.]  THE  SMASHER.  247 

manner,  and  to  say :  *  What  have  they  been  doing  to  this  here 
gold  ? '  My  grandfather,  as  I  said  before,  was  connected  with  a 
gang  of  shorters,  and  sometimes  shortened  money,  and  at  other 
times  passed  off  what  had  been  shortened  by  other  gentry. 

"  Passing  off  what  had  been  shortened  by  others  was  his  ruin  ; 
for  once,  in  trying  to  pass  off  a  broad  piece  which  had  been  laid 
in  aquafortis  for  four-and-twenty  hours,  and  was  very  black,  not 
having  been  properly  rectified,  he  was  stopped  and  searched,  and 
other  reduced  coins  being  found  about  him,  and  in  his  lodgings, 
he  was  committed  to  prison,  tried  and  executed.  He  was  offered 
his  life,  provided  he  would  betray  his  comrades ;  but  he  told  the 
big-wigs,  who  wanted  him  to  do  so,  that  he  would  see  them  farther 
first,  and  died  at  Tyburn,  amidst  the  cheers  of  the  populace,  leaving 
my  grandmother  and  father,  to  whom  he  had  always  been  a  kind 
husband  and  parent — for,  setting  aside  the  crime  for  which  he 
suffered,  he  was  a  moral  man — leaving  them,  I  say,  to  bewail  his 
irreparable  loss. 

"'Tis  said  that  misfortune  never  comes  alone;  this  is,  how- 
ever, not  always  the  case.  Shortly  after  my  grandfather's  misfor- 
tune, as  my  grandmother  and  her  son  were  living  in  great  misery 
in  Spitalfields,  her  only  relation — a  brother  from  whom  she  had 
been  estranged  some  years,  on  account  of  her  marriage  with  my 
grandfather,  who  had  been  in  an  inferior  station  to  herself — died, 
leaving  all  his  property  to  her  and  the  child.  This  property 
consisted  of  a  farm  of  about  a  hundred  acres,  with  its  stock,  and 
some  money  besides.  My  grandmother,  who  knew  something  of 
business,  instantly  went  into  the  country,  where  she  farmed  the 
property  for  her  own  benefit  and  that  of  her  son,  to  whom  she 
gave  an  education  suitable  to  a  person  in  his  condition,  till  he  was 
old  enough  to  manage  the  farm  himself.  Shortly  after  the  young 
man  came  of  age,  my  grandmother  died,  and  my  father,  in  about 
a  year,  married  the  daughter  of  a  farmer,  from  whom  he  expected 
some  little  fortune,  but  who  very  much  deceived  him,  becoming 
a  bankrupt  almost  immediately  after  the  marriage  of  his  daughter, 
and  himself  and  family  going  to  the  workhouse. 

"My  mother,  however,  made  my  father  an  excellent  wife; 
and  if  my  father  in  the  long  run  did  not  do  well  it  was  no  fault 
of  hers.  My  father  was  not  a  bad  man  by  nature ;  he  was  of  an 
easy,  generous  temper — the  most  unfortunate  temper,  by-the-bye, 
for  success  in  this  life  that  any  person  can  be  possessed  of, 
as  those  who  have  it  are  almost  sure  to  be  made  dupes  of  by  the 
designing.  But,  though  easy  and  generous,  he  was  anything 
but  a  fool ;  he  had  a  quick  and  witty  tongue  of  his  own  when 


248  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

he  chose  to  exert  it,  and  woe  be  to  those  who  insulted  him 
openly,  for  there  was  not  a  better  boxer  in  the  whole  country 
round.  My  parents  were  married  several  years  before  I  came 
into  the  world,  who  was  their  first  and  only  child.  I  may  be 
called  an  unfortunate  creature ;  I  was  born  with  this  beam 
or  scale  on  my  left  eye,  which  does  not  allow  me  to  see  with  it ; 
and  though  I  can  see  tolerably  sharply  with  the  other,  indeed 
more  than  most  people  can  with  both  of  theirs,  it  is  a  great 
misfortune  not  to  have  two  eyes  like  other  people.  Moreover, 
setting  aside  the  affair  of  my  eye,  I  had  a  very  ugly  countenance, 
my  mouth  being  slightly  wrung  aside,  and  my  complexion 
rather  swarthy.  In  fact,  I  looked  so  queer  that  the  gossips  and 
neighbours,  when  they  first  saw  me,  swore  I  was  a  changeling — 
perhaps  it  would  have  been  well  if  I  had  never  been  born ;  for 
my  poor  father,  who  had  been  particularly  anxious  to  have  a  son, 
no  sooner  saw  me  than  he  turned  away,  went  to  the  neighbouring 
town,  and  did  not  -return  for  two  days.  I  am  by  no  means 
certain  that  I  was  not  the  cause  of  his  ruin,  for  till  I  came  into 
the  world  he  was  fond  of  his  home,  and  attended  much  to  busi- 
ness, but  afterwards  he  went  frequently  into  company  and  did 
not  seem  to  care  much  about  his  affairs  :  he  was,  however,  a  kind 
man,  and  when  his  wife  gave  him  advice  never  struck  her,  nor  do 
I  ever  remember  that  he  kicked  me  when  I  came  in  his  way,  or 
so  much  as  cursed  my  ugly  face,  though  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
he  didn't  over-like  me.  When  I  was  six  years  old  I  was  sent 
to  the  village  school,  where  I  was  soon  booked  for  a  dunce, 
because  the  master  found  it  impossible  to  teach  me  either  to  read 
or  write.  Before  I  had  been  at  school  two  years,  however,  I  had 
beaten  boys  four  years  older  than  myself,  and  could  fling  a  stone 
with  my  left  hand  (for  if  I  am  right-eyed  I  am  left-handed)  higher 
and  farther  than  any  one  in  the  parish.  Moreover,  no  boy  could 
equal  me  at  riding,  and  no  people  ride  so  well  or  desperately  as 
boys.  I  could  ride  a  donkey — a  thing  far  more  difficult  to  ride 
than  a  horse — at  full  galop  over  hedges  and  ditches,  seated, 
or  rather  floating  upon  his  hinder  part ;  so,  though  anything  but 
clever,  as  this  here  Romany  Rye  would  say,  I  was  yet  able  to  do 
things  which  few  other  people  could  do.  By  the  time  I  was  ten 
my  father's  affairs  had  got  into  a  very  desperate  condition,  for  he 
had  taken  to  gambling  and  horse-racing,  and,  being  unsuccessful, 
had  sold  his  stock,  mortgaged  his  estate,  and  incurred  very  serious 
debts.  The  upshot  was,  that  within  a  little  time  all  he  had  was 
seized,  himself  imprisoned,  and  my  mother  and  myself  put  into 
a  cottage  belonging  to  the  parish,  which,  being  very  cold  and 


I825-]  IN  QUOD.  349 

damp,  was  the  cause  of  her  catching  a  fever,  which  speedily 
carried  her  off.  I  was  then  bound  apprentice  to  a  farmer, 
in  whose  service  I  underwent  much  coarse  treatment,  cold 
and  hunger. 

"  After  lying  in  prison  near  two  years,  my  father  was  liberated 
by  an  Act  for  the  benefit  of  insolvent  debtors ;  he  was  then  lost 
sight  of  for  some  time ;  at  last,  however,  he  made  his  appearance 
in  the  neighbourhood  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  and  seemingly 
possessed  of  plenty  of  money.  He  came  to  see  me,  took  me 
into  a  field,  and  asked  me  how  I  was  getting  on.  I  told  him  I 
was  dreadfully  used,  and  begged  him  to  take  me  away  with  him ; 
he  refused,  and  told  me  to  be  satisfied  with  my  condition,  for 
that  he  could  do  nothing  for  me.  I  had  a  great  love  for  my  father, 
and  likewise  a  great  admiration  for  him  on  account  of  his  character 
as  a  boxer,  the  only  character  which  boys  in  general  regard,  so  I 
wished  much  to  be  with  him,  independently  of  the  dog's  life  I  was 
leading  where  I  was ;  I  therefore  said  if  he  would  not  take  me 
with  him,  I  would  follow  him ;  he  replied  that  I  must  do  no  such 
thing,  for  that  if  I  did,  it  would  be  my  ruin.  I  asked  him  what 
he  meant,  but  he  made  no  reply,  only  saying  that  he  would  go 
and  speak  to  the  farmer.  Then  taking  me  with  him,  he  went 
to  the  farmer,  and  in  a  very  civil  manner  said  that  he  understood 
I  had  not  been  very  kindly  treated  by  him,  but  he  hoped  that  in 
future  I  should  be  used  better.  The  farmer  answered  in  a  surly 
tone,  that  I  had  been  only  too  well  treated,  for  that  I  was  a 
worthless  young  scoundrel ;  high  words  ensued,  and  the  farmer, 
forgetting  the  kind  of  man  he  had  to  deal  with,  checked  him  with 
my  grandsire's  misfortune,  and  said  he  deserved  to  be  hanged  like 
his  father.  In  a  moment  my  father  knocked  him  down,  and  on 
his  getting  up,  gave  him  a  terrible  beating,  then  taking  me  by 
the  hand  he  hastened  away;  as  we  were  going  down  a  lane  he 
said  we  were  now  both  done  for.  '  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  that, 
father,'  said  I,  'provided  I  be  with  you.'  My  father  took  me  to 
the  neighbouring  town,  and  going  into  the  yard  of  a  small  inn,  he 
ordered  out  a  pony  and  light  cart  which  belonged  to  him,  then 
paying  his  bill,  he  told  me  to  mount  upon  the  seat,  and  getting 
up  drove  away  like  lightning;  we  drove  for  at  least  six  hours 
without  stopping,  till  we  came  to  a  cottage  by  the  side  of  a  heath  ; 
we  put  the  pony  and  cart  into  a  shed,  and  went  into  the  cottage, 
my  father  unlocking  the  door  with  a  key  which  he  took  out  of  his 
pocket ;  there  was  nobody  in  the  cottage  when  we  arrived,  but 
shortly  after  there  came  a  man  and  woman,  and  then  some 
more  people,  and  by  ten  o'clock  at  night  there  were  a  dozen  of 


aso  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

us  in  the  cottage.  The  people  were  companions  of  my  father. 
My  father  began  talking  to  them  in  Latin,  but  I  did  not  under- 
stand much  of  the  discourse,  though  I  believe  it  was  about 
myself,  as  their  eyes  were  frequently  turned  to  me.  Some 
objections  appeared  to  be  made  to  what  he  said ;  however,  all 
at  last  seemed  to  be  settled,  and  we  all  sat  down  to  some  food. 
After  that,  all  the  people  got  up  and  went  away,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  woman,  who  remained  with  my  father  and  me.  The 
next  day  my  father  also  departed,  leaving  me  with  the  woman, 
telling  me  before  he  went  that  she  would  teach  me  some  things 
which  it  behoved  me  to  know.  I  remained  with  her  in  the 
cottage  upwards  of  a  week ;  several  of  those  who  had  been  there 
coming  and  going.  The  woman,  after  making  me  take  an  oath 
to  be  faithful,  told  me  that  the  people  whom  I  had  seen  were  a 
gang  who  got  their  livelihood  by  passing  forged  notes,  and  that 
my  father  was  a  principal  man  amongst  them,  adding  that  I  must 
do  my  best  to  assist  them.  I  was  a  poor  ignorant  child  at  that 
time,  and  I  made  no  objection,  thinking  that  whatever  my  father 
did  must  be  right ;  the  woman  then  gave  me  some  instructions 
in  the  smasher's  dialect  of  the  Latin  language.  I  made  great 
progress,  because,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  paid  great 
attention  to  my  lessons.  At  last  my  father  returned,  and,  after 
some  conversation  with  the  woman,  took  me  away  in  his  cart. 
I  shall  be  very  short  about  what  happened  to  my  father  and 
myself  during  two  years.  My  father  did  his  best  to  smash  the 
Bank  of  England  by  passing  forged  notes,  and  I  did  my  best 
to  assist  him.  We  attended  races  and  fairs  in  all  kinds  of 
disguises ;  my  father  was  a  first-rate  hand  at  a  disguise,  and 
could  appear  of  all  ages,  from  twenty  to  fourscore ;  he  was, 
however,  grabbed  at  last.  He  had  said,  as  I  have  told  you,  that 
he  should  be  my  ruin,  but  I  was  the  cause  of  his,  and  all  owing 
to  the  misfortune  of  this  here  eye  of  mine.  We  came  to  this 
very  place  of  Horncastle,  where  my  father  purchased  two  horses 
of  a  young  man,  paying  for  them  with  three  forged  notes  purport- 
ing to  be  Bank  of  Englanders  of  fifty  pounds  each,  and  got  the 
young  man  to  change  another  of  the  like  amount ;  he  at  that 
time  appeared  as  a  respectable  dealer  and  I  as  his  son,  as  I 
really  was. 

u  As  soon  as  we  had  got  the  horses  we  conveyed  them  to  one 
of  the  places  of  call  belonging  to  our  gang,  of  which  there  were 
several.  There  they  were  delivered  into  the  hands  of  one  of  our 
companions,  who  speedily  sold  them  in  a  distant  part  of  the  country. 
The  sum  whicn  they  fetched — for  the  gang  kept  very  regular 


1825.]  AN  OLD  OFFENDER.  251 

accounts — formed  an  important  item  on  the  next  day  of  sharing, 
of  which  there  were  twelve  in  the  year.  The  young  man,  whom 
my  father  had  paid  for  the  horses  with  his  smashing  notes,  was 
soon  in  trouble  about  them,  and  ran  some  risk,  as  I  heard,  of 
being  executed ;  but  he  bore  a  good  character,  told  a  plain  story, 
and,  above  all,  had  friends,  and  was  admitted  to  bail;  to  one 
of  his  friends  he  described  my  father  and  myself.  This  person 
happened  to  be  at  an  inn  in  Yorkshire,  where  my  father,  disguised 
as  a  Quaker,  attempted  to  pass  a  forged  note.  The  note  was 
shown  to  this  individual,  who  pronounced  it  a  forgery,  it  being 
exactly  similar  to  those  for  which  the  young  man  had  been  in 
trouble,  and  which  he  had  seen.  My  father,  however,  being 
supposed  a  respectable  man,  because  he  was  dressed  as  a  Quaker — 
the  very  reason,  by-the-bye  why  anybody  who  knew  aught  of  the 
Quakers  would  have  suspected  him  to  be  a  rogue — would  have 
been  let  go,  had  I  not  made  my  appearance,  dressed  as  his 
footboy.  The  friend  of  the  young  man  looked  at  my  eye,  and 
seized  hold  of  my  father,  who  made  a  desperate  resistance,  I 
assisting  him  as  in  duty  bound.  Being,  however,  overpowered 
by  numbers,  he  bade  me  by  a  look,  and  a  word  or  two  in  Latin, 
to  make  myself  scarce.  Though  my  heart  was  fit  to  break,  I 
obeyed  my  father,  who  was  speedily  committed.  I  followed  him 
to  the  county  town  in  which  he  was  lodged,  where  shortly  after  I 
saw  him  tried,  convicted  and  condemned.  I  then,  having  made 
friends  with  the  jailor's  wife,  visited  him  in  his  cell,  where  I  found 
him  very  much  cast  down.  He  said,  that  my  mother  had  appeared 
to  him  in  a  dream,  and  talked  to  him  about  a  resurrection  and 
Christ  Jesus  ;  there  was  a  Bible  before  him,  and  he  told  me  the 
chaplain  had  just  been  praying  with  him.  He  reproached  himself 
much,  saying,  he  was  afraid  he  had  been  my  ruin,  by  teaching  me 
bad  habits.  I  told  him  not  to  say  any  such  thing,  for  that  I  had 
been  the  cause  of  his,  owing  to  the  misfortune  of  my  eye.  He 
begged  me  to  give  over  all  unlawful  pursuits,  saying,  that  if 
persisted  in,  they  were  sure  of  bringing  a  person  to  destruction. 
I  advised  him  to  try  and  make  his  escape,  proposing  that  when 
the  turnkey  came  to  let  me  out,  he  should  knock  him  down,  and 
fight  his  way  out,  offering  to  assist  him  showing  him  a  small  saw, 
with  which  one  of  our  companions,  who  was  in  the  neighbourhood, 
had  provided  me,  and  with  which  he  could  have  cut  through  his 
fetters  in  five  minutes ;  but  he  told  me  he  had  no  wish  to  escape, 
and  was  quite  willing  to  die.  I  was  rather  hard  at  that  time ;  I 
am  not  very  soft  now ;  and  I  felt  rather  ashamed  of  my  father's 
want  of  what  I  called  spirit.  He  was  not  executed  after  all ;  for 


353  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1835. 

the  chaplain,  who  was  connected  with  a  great  family,  stood  his 
friend  and  got  his  sentence  commuted,  as  they  call  it,  to  trans- 
portation ;  and  in  order  to  make  the  matter  easy,  he  induced 
my  fatherto  make  some  valuable  disclosures  with  respect  to  the 
smashers'  system.  I  confess  that  I  would  have  been  hanged 
before  I  would  have  done  so,  after  having  reaped  the  profit  of 
it;  that  is,  I  think  so  now,  seated  comfortably  in  my  inn,  with 
my  bottle  of  champagne  before  me.  He,  however,  did  not  show 
himself  carrion ;  he  would  not  betray  his  companions,  who  had 
behaved  very  handsomely  to  him,  having  given  the  son  of  a  lord, 
a  great  barrister,  not  a  hundred-pound  forged  bill,  but  a  hundred 
hard  guineas,  to  plead  his  cause,  and  another  ten,  to  induce  him, 
after  pleading,  to  put  his  hand  to  his  breast,  and  say  that,  upon 
his  honour,  he  believed  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  to  be  an  honest 
and  injured  man.  No ;  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say,  that  my 
father  did  not  show  himself  exactly  carrion,  though  I  could 

almost  have  wished  he  had  let  himself However,  I  am 

here  with  my  bottle  of  champagne  and  the  Romany  Rye,  and 
he  was  in  his  cell,  with  bread  and  water  and  the  prison  chaplain. 
He  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  me  before  he  was  sent  away, 
giving  me  three  out  of  five  guineas,  all  the  money  he  had  left. 
He  was  a  kind  man,  but  not  exactly  fitted  to  fill  my  grandfather's 
shoes.  I  afterwards  learned  that  he  died  of  fever,  as  he  was 
being  carried  across  the  sea. 

"  During  the  'sizes  I  had  made  acquaintance  with  old  Fulcher. 
I  was  in  the  town  on  my  father's  account,  and  he  was  there  on 
his  son's,  who,  having  committed  a  small  larceny,  was  in  trouble. 
Young  Fulcher,  however,  unlike  my  father,  got  off,  though  he  did 
not  give  the  son  of  a  lord  a  hundred  guineas  to  speak  for  him,  and 
ten  more  to  pledge  his  sacred  honour  for  his  honesty,  but  gave 

Counsellor  P one-and-twenty  shillings  to  defend  him,  who  so 

frightened  the  principal  evidence,  a  plain  honest  farming-man, 
that  he  flatly  contradicted  what  he  had  first  said,  and  at  last 
acknowledged  himself  to  be  all  the  rogues  in  the  world,  and, 
amongst  other  things,  a  perjured  villain.  Old  Fulcher,  before  he 
left  the  town  with  his  son, — and  here  it  will  be  well  to  say  that  he 
and  his  son  left  it  in  a  kind  of  triumph,  the  base  drummer  of  a 
militia  regiment,  to  whom  they  had  given  half  a  crown,  beating 
his  drum  before  them — old  Fulcher  I  say,  asked  me  to  go  and 
visit  him,  telling  me  where,  at  such  a  time,  I  might  find  him  and 
his  caravan  and  family ;  offering,  if  I  thought  fit,  to  teach  me 
basket-making :  so,  after  my  father  had  been  sent  off,  I  went  and 
found  up  old  Fulcher,  and  became  his  apprentice  in  the  basket- 


1825.]  OLD  FULCHER.  253 

making  line.  I  stayed  with  him  till  the  time  of  his  death,  which 
happened  in  about  three  months,  travelling  about  with  him  and 
his  family,  and  living  in  green  lanes,  where  we  saw  gypsies  and 
trampers,  and  all  kinds  of  strange  characters.  Old  Fulcher, 
besides  being  an  industrious  basket-maker,  was  an  out  and  out 
thief,  as  was  also  his  son,  and,  indeed,  every  member  of  his  family. 
They  used  to  make  baskets  during  the  day,  and  thieve  during  a 
great  part  of  the  night.  I  had  not  been  with  them  twelve  hours, 
before  old  Fulcher  told  me  that  I  must  thieve  as  well  as  the  rest. 
I  demurred  at  first,  for  I  remembered  the  fate  of  my  father,  and 
what  he  had  told  me  about  leaving  off  bad  courses,  but  soon 
allowed  myself  to  be  over-persuaded,  more  especially  as  the  first 
robbery  I  was  asked  to  do  was  a  fruit  robbery.  I  was  to  go  with 
young  Fulcher,  and  steal  some  fine  Morell  cherries,  which  grew 
against  a  wall  in  a  gentleman's  garden ;  so  young  Fulcher  and  I 
went  and  stole  the  cherries,  one  half  of  which  we  ate,  and  gave 
the  rest  to  the  old  man,  who  sold  them  to  a  fruiterer  ten  miles  off 
from  the  place  where  we  had  stolen  them.  The  next  night  old 
Fulcher  took  me  out  with  himself.  He  was  a  great  thief,  though 
in  a  small  way.  He  used  to  say,  that  they  were  fools,  who  did  not 
always  manage  to  keep  the  rope  below  their  shoulders,  by  which 
he  meant,  that  it  was  not  advisable  to  commit  a  robbery,  or  do 
anything  which  could  bring  you  to  the  gallows.  He  was  all  for 
petty  larceny,  and  knew  where  to  put  his  hand  upon  any  little 
thing  in  England,  which  it  was  possible  to  steal.  I  submit  it  to 
the  better  judgment  of  the  Romany  Rye,  who  I  see  is  a  great 
hand  for  words  and  names,  whether  he  ought  not  to  have  been 
called  old  Filcher,  instead  of  Fulcher.  I  shan't  give  a  regular 
account  of  the  larcenies  which  he  committed  during  the  short 
time  I  knew  him,  either  alone  by  himself,  or  with  me  and  his 
son.  I  shall  merely  relate  the  last : — 

"  A  melancholy  gentleman,  who  lived  a  very  solitary  life,  had 
a  large  carp  in  a  shady  pond  in  a  meadow  close  to  his  house ;  he 
was  exceedingly  fond  of  it,  and  used  to  feed  it  with  his  own  hand, 
the  creature  being  so  tame  that  it  would  put  its  snout  out  of  the 
water  to  be  fed  when  it  was  whistled  to ;  feeding  and  looking  at 
his  carp  were  the  only  pleasures  the  poor  melancholy  gentleman 
possessed.  Old  Fulcher — being  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  hav- 
ing an  order  from  a  fishmonger  for  a  large  fish,  which  was  wanted 
at  a  great  city  dinner,  at  which  His  Majesty  was  to  be  present — 
swore  he  would  steal  the  carp,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him.  I 
had  heard  of  the  gentleman's  fondness  for  his  creature,  and 
begged  him  to  let  it  be,  advising  him  to  go  and  steal  some  other 


254  THE  ROMANY  RYE. 


fish  ;  but  old  Fulcher  swore,  and  said  he  would  have  the  carp, 
although  its  master  should  hang  himself;  I  told  him  he  might  go 
by  himself,  but  he  took  his  son  and  stole  the  carp,  which  weighed 
seventeen  pounds.  Old  Fulcher  got  thirty  shillings  for  the  carp, 
which  I  afterwards  heard  was  much  admired  and  relished  by  His 
Majesty.  The  master,  however,  of  the  carp,  on  losing  his  favourite, 
became  more  melancholy  than  ever,  and  in  a  little  time  hanged 
himself.  *  What's  sport  for  one,  is  death  to  another,'  I  once  heard 
at  the  village  school  read  out  of  a  copy-book. 

"  This  was  the  last  larceny  old  Fulcher  ever  committed.  He 
could  keep  his  neck  always  out  of  the  noose,  but  he  could  not 
always  keep  his  leg  out  of  the  trap.  A  few  nights  after,  having 
removed  to  a  distance,  he  went  to  an  osier  car  in  order  to  steal 
some  osiers  for  his  basket-making,  for  he  never  bought  any.  I 
followed  a  little  way  behind.  Old  Fulcher  had  frequently  stolen 
osiers  out  of  the  car,  whilst  in  the  neighbourhood,  but  during  his 
absence  the  property,  of  which  the  car  was  a  part,  had  been  let 
to  a  young  gentleman,  a  great  hand  for  preserving  game.  Old 
Fulcher  had  not  got  far  into  the  car  before  he  put  his  foot  into  a 
man-trap.  Hearing  old  Fulcher  shriek,  I  ran  up,  and  found  him 
in  a  dreadful  condition.  Putting  a  large  stick  which  I  carried  into 
the  jaws  of  the  trap,  I  contrived  to  prize  them  open,  and  get  old 
Fulcher's  leg  out,  but  the  leg  was  broken.  So  I  ran  to  the  caravan, 
and  told  young  Fulcher  of  what  had  happened,  and  he  and  I 
went  and  helped  his  father  home.  A  doctor  was  sent  for,  who 
said  it  was  necessary  to  take  the  leg  off,  but  old  Fulcher,  being 
very  much  afraid  of  pain,  said  it  should  not  be  taken  off,  and  the 
doctor  went  away,  but  after  some  days,  old  Fulcher  becoming 
worse,  ordered  the  doctor  to  be  sent  for,  who  came  and  took  off 
his  leg,  but  it  was  then  too  late,  mortification  had  come  on,  and 
in  a  little  time  old  Fulcher  died. 

"  Thus  perished  old  Fulcher  ;  he  was  succeeded  in  his  business 
by  his  son,  young  Fulcher,  who,  immediately  after  the  death  of  his 
father,  was  called  old  Fulcher,  it  being  our  English  custom  to  call 
everybody  old,  as  soon  as  their  fathers  are  buried  ;  young  Fulcher 
—  I  mean  he  who  had  been  called  young,  but  was  now  old  Ful- 
cher —  wanted  me  to  go  out  and  commit  larcenies  with  him  ;  but 
I  told  him  that  I  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  thieving, 
having  seen  the  ill  effects  of  it,  and  that  I  should  leave  them  in 
the  morning.  Old  Fulcher  begged  me  to  think  better  of  it,  and 
his  mother  joined  with  him.  They  offered,  if  I  would  stay,  to 
give  me  Mary  Fulcher  as  a  mort,  till  she  and  I  were  old  enough 
to  be  regularly  married,  she  being  the  daughter  of  the  one,  and 


I&J5-]  IN  BUSINESS.  255 

the  sister  of  the  other.  I  liked  the  girl  very  well,  for  she  had 
always  been  civil  to  me,  and  had  a  fair  complexion  and  nice  red 
hair,  both  of  which  I  like,  being  a  bit  of  a  black  myself;  but  I 
refused,  being  determined  to  see  something  more  of  the  world 
than  I  could  hope  to  do  with  the  Fulchers,  and  moreover,  to  live 
honestly,  which  I  could  never  do  along  with  them.  So  the  next 
morning  I  left  them :  I  was,  as  I  said  before,  quite  determined 
upon  an  honest  livelihood,  and  I  soon  found  one.  He  is  a  great 
fool  who  is  ever  dishonest  in  England.  Any  person  who  has  any 
natural  gift,  and  everybody  has  some  natural  gift,  is  sure  of  finding 
encouragement  in  this  noble  country  of  ours,  provided  he  will  but 
exhibit  it.  I  had  not  walked  more  than  three  miles  before  I  came 
to  a  wonderfully  high  church  steeple,  which  stood  close  by  the 
road ;  I  looked  at  the  steeple,  and  going  to  a  heap  of  smooth 
pebbles  which  lay  by  the  roadside,  I  took  up  some,  and  then 
went  into  the  churchyard,  and  placing  myself  just  below  the  tower, 
my  right  foot  resting  on  a  ledge,  about  two  feet  from  the  ground, 
I,  with  my  left  hand — being  a  left-handed  person,  do  you  see — 
flung  or  chucked  up  a  stone,  which  lighting  on  the  top  of  the 
steeple,  which  was  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  did  there 
remain.  After  repeating  this  feat  two  or  three  times,  I  '  hulled '  up 
a  stone,  which  went  clean  over  the  tower,  and  then  one,  my  right 
foot  still  on  the  ledge,  which  rising  at  least  five  yards  above  the 
steeple,  did  fall  down  just  at  my  feet.  Without  knowing  it,  I  was 
showing  off  my  gift  to  others  besides  myself,  doing  what,  perhaps, 
not  five  men  in  England  could  do.  Two  men,  who  were  passing 
by,  stopped  and  looked  at  my  proceedings,  and  when  I  had  done 
flinging  came  into  the  churchyard,  and,  after  paying  me  a  compli- 
ment on  what  they  had  seen  me  do,  proposed  that  I  should  join 
company  with  them ;  I  asked  them  who  they  were,  and  they  told 
me.  The  one  was  Hopping  Ned,  and  the  other  Biting  Giles. 
Both  had  their  gifts,  by  which  they  got  their  livelihood ;  Ned 
could  hop  a  hundred  yards  with  any  man  in  England,  and  Giles 
could  lift  up  with  his  teeth  any  dresser  or  kitchen  table  in  the 
country,  and,  standing  erect,  hold  it  dangling  in  his  jaws.  There's 
many  a  big  oak  table  and  dresser  in  certain  districts  of  England, 
which  bear  the  marks  of  Giles's  teeth  ;  and  I  make  no  doubt  that, 
a  hundred  or  two  years  hence,  there'll  be  strange  stories  about 
those  marks,  and  that  people  will  point  them  out  as  a  proof  that 
there  were  giants  in  bygone  time,  and  that  many  a  dentist  will 
moralise  on  the  decays  which  human  teeth  have  undergone. 

"  They  wanted  me  to  go  about  with  them,  and  exhibit  my  gift 
occasionally  as  they  did  theirs,  promising  that  the  money  that  was 


256  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

got  by  the  exhibitions  should  be  honestly  divided.  I  consented, 
and  we  set  off  together,  and  that  evening  coming  to  a  village,  and 
putting  up  at  the  ale-house,  all  the  grand  folks  of  the  village  being 
there  smoking  their  pipes,  we  contrived  to  introduce  the  subject 
of  hopping — the  upshot  being  that  Ned  hopped  against  the  school- 
master for  a  pound,  and  beat  him  hollow ;  shortly  after,  Giles,  for 
a  wager,  took  up  the  kitchen  table  in  his  jaws,  though  he  had  to 
pay  a  shilling  to  the  landlady  for  the  marks  he  left,  whose  grand- 
children will  perhaps  get  money  by  exhibiting  them.  As  for 
myself,  I  did  nothing  that  day,  but  the  next,  on  which  my  com- 
panions did  nothing,  I  showed  off  at  hulling  stones  against  a 
cripple,  the  crack  man  for  stone  throwing,  of  a  small  town,  a  few 
miles  farther  on.  Bets  were  made  to  the  tune  of  some  pounds ;  I 
contrived  to  beat  the  cripple,  and  just  contrived ;  for  to  do  him 
justice,  I  must  acknowledge  he  was  a  first-rate  hand  at  stones, 
though  he  had  a  game  hip,  and  went  sideways ;  his  head,  when 
he  walked — if  his  movements  could  be  called  walking — not  being 
above  three  feet  above  the  ground.  So  we  travelled,  I  and  my 
companions,  showing  off  our  gifts,  Giles  and  I  occasionally  for  a 
gathering,  but  Ned  never  hopping  unless  against  somebody  for  a 
wager.  We  lived  honestly  and  comfortably,  making  no  little 
money  by  our  natural  endowments,  and  were  known  over  a  great 
part  of  England  as  *  Hopping  Ned,' '  Biting  Giles/  and  '  Hull  over 
the  Head  Jack,'  which  was  my  name,  it  being  the  blackguard 

fashion  of  the  English,  do  you  see,  to ' 

Here  I  interrupted  the  jockey.  "  You  may  call  it  a  blackguard 
fashion,"  said  I,  "and  I  dare  say  it  is,  or  it  would  scarcely  be 
English ;  but  it  is  an  immensely  ancient  one,  and  is  handed  down 
to  us  from  our  northern  ancestry,  especially  the  Danes,  who  were 
in  the  habit  of  giving  people  surnames,  or  rather  nicknames,  from 
some  quality  of  body  or  mind,  but  generally  from  some  disadvan- 
tageous peculiarity  of  feature ;  for  there  is  no  denying  that  the 
English,  Norse,  or  whatever  we  may  please  to  call  them,  are  an 
envious,  depreciatory  set  of  people,  who  not  only  give  their  poor 
comrades  contemptuous  surnames,  but  their  great  people  also. 
They  didn't  call  you  the  matchless  Hurler,  because,  by  doing  so, 
they  would  have  paid  you  a  compliment,  but  Hull-over-the-Head 
Jack,  as  much  as  to  say  that  after  all  you  were  a  scrub  :  so,  in 
ancient  time,  instead  of  calling  Regner  the  great  conqueror,  the 
Nation  Tamer,  they  surnamed  him  Lodbrog,  which  signifies  Rough 
or  Hairy  Breeks — lod  or  loddin  signifying  rough  or  hairy  ;  and  in- 
stead of  complimenting  Halgerdr,  the  wife  of  Gunnar  of  Hlitharend, 
the  great  champion  of  Iceland,  upon  her  majestic  presence,  by 


1825.]  THE  THIRD  INTERRUPTION.  257 

calling  her  Halgerdr,  the  stately  or  tall,  what  must  they  do  but  term 
her  Ha-brokr,  or  High-breeks,  it  being  the  fashion  in  old  times  for 
Northern  ladies  to  wear  breeks,  or  breeches,  which  English  ladies 
of  the  present  day  never  think  of  doing ;  and  just,  as  of  old,  they 
called  Halgerdr  Long-breeks,  so  this  very  day  a  fellow  of  Horncastle 
called,  in  my  hearing,  our  noble-looking  Hungarian  friend  here, 
Long-stockings.  Oh,  I  could  give  you  a  hundred  instances,  both 
ancient  and  modern,  of  this  unseemly  propensity  of  our  illustrious 
race,  though  I  will  only  trouble  you  with  a  few  more  ancient  ones ; 
they  not  only  nicknamed  Regner,  but  his  sons  also,  who  were  all 
kings,  and  distinguished  men  ;  one,  whose  name  was  Biorn,  they 
nicknamed  Ironsides ;  another,  Sigurd,  Snake  in  the  Eye  \  another, 
White  Sark,  or  White  Shirt — I  wonder  they  did  not  call  him  Dirty 
Shirt ;  and  Ivarr,  another,  who  was  king  of  Northumberland,  they 
called  Beinlausi,  or  the  Legless,  because  he  was  spindle-shanked, 
had  no  sap  in  his  bones,  and  consequently  no  children.  He  was 
a  great  king,  it  is  true,  and  very  wise,  nevertheless  his  blackguard 
countrymen,  always  averse,  as  their  descendants  are,  to  give  credit 
to  anybody,  for  any  valuable  quality  or  possession,  must  needs  lay 

hold,  do  you  see " 

But  before  I  could  say  any  more,  the  jockey,  having  laid  down 
his  pipe,  rose,  and  having  taken  off  his  coat,  advanced  towards 
me. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  jockey,  having  taken  off  his  coat  and  advanced  towards  me, 
as  I  have  stated  in  the  preceding  chapter,  exclaimed,  in  an  angry 
tone  :  "  This  is  the  third  time  you  have  interrupted  me  in  my  tale, 
Mr.  Rye;  I  passed  over  the  two  first  times  with  a  simple  warning,  but 
you  will  now  please  to  get  up  and  give  me  the  satisfaction  of  a  man". 

"  I  am  really  sorry,"  said  I,  "  if  I  have  given  you  offence,  but 
you  were  talking  of  our  English  habit  of  bestowing  nicknames, 
and  I  could  not  refrain  from  giving  a  few  examples  tending  to 
prove  what  a  very  ancient  habit  it  is." 

"  But  you  interrupted  me,"  said  the  jockey,  "  and  put  me  out 
of  my  tale,  which  you  had  no  right  to  do;  and  as  for  your 
examples,  how  do  you  know  that  I  wasn't  going  to  give  some  as 
old  or  older  than  yourn?  Now,  stand  up,  and  I'll  make  an 
example  of  you." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  confess  it  was  wrong  in  me  to  interrupt 
you,  and  I  ask  your  pardon." 

"  That  won't  do,"  said  the  jockey,  "  asking  pardon  won't  do." 

"Oh,"  said  I,  getting  up,  "if  asking  pardon  does  not  satisfy 
you,  you  are  a  different  man  from  what  I  considered  you." 

But  here  the  Hungarian,  also  getting  up,  interposed  his  tall 
form  and  pipe  between  us,  saying  in  English,  scarcely  intelligible, 
"  Let  there  be  no  dispute !  As  for  myself,  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  the  young  man  of  Horncastle  for  his  interruption, 
though  he  has  told  me  that  one  of  his  dirty  townsmen  called  me 
*  Longstockings '.  By  Isten  !  there  is  more  learning  in  what  he 
has  just  said  than  in  all  the  verdammt  English  histories  of  Thor 
and  Tzernebock  I  ever  read." 

"I  care  nothing  for  his  learning,"  said  the  jockey.  "I 
consider  myself  as  good  a  man  as  he,  for  all  his  learning ;  so 
stand  out  of  the  way,  Mr.  Sixfoot-eleven  or " 

"I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  the  Hungarian.  "  I  wonder 
you  are  not  ashamed  of  yourself.  You  ask  a  young  man  to  drink 
champagne  with  you,  you  make  him  dronk,  he  interrupt  you  with 
very  good  sense ;  he  ask  your  pardon,  yet  you  not " 

"  Well,"   said  the  jockey,  "  I  am  satisfied.     I  am  rather  a 


1825.]  RECONCILIATION.  259 

short-tempered  person,  but  I  bear  no  malice.  He  is,  as  you  say, 
drinking  my  wine,  and  has  perhaps  taken  a  drop  too  much,  not 
being  used  to  such  high  liquor ;  but  one  doesn't  like  to  be  put 
out  of  one's  tale,  more  especially  when  one  was  about  to  moralise, 
do  you  see,  oneself,  and  to  show  off  what  little  learning  one  has. 
However,  I  bears  no  malice.  Here  is  a  hand  to  each  of  you ; 
we'll  take  another  glass  each,  and  think  no  more  about  it." 

The  jockey  having  shaken  both  of  our  hands,  and  filled  our 
glasses  and  his  own  with  what  champagne  remained  in  the  bottle, 
put  on  his  coat,  sat  down,  and  resumed  his  pipe  and  story. 

"  Where  was  I  ?  Oh,  roaming  about  the  country  with  Hopping 
Ned  and  Biting  Giles.  Those  were  happy  days,  and  a  merry 
and  prosperous  life  we  led.  However,  nothing  continues  under 
the  sun  in  the  same  state  in  which  it  begins,  and  our  firm  was 
soon  destined  to  undergo  a  change.  We  came  to  a  village  where 
there  was  a  very  high  church  steeple,  and  in  a  little  time  my 
comrades  induced  a  crowd  of  people  to  go  and  see  me  display 
my  gift  by  flinging  stones  above  the  heads  of  Matthew,  Mark, 
Luke  and  John,  who  stood  at  the  four  corners  on  the  top,  carved 
in  stone.  The  parson,  seeing  the  crowd,  came  waddling  out  of  his 
rectory  to  see  what  was  going  on.  After  I  had  flung  up  the 
stones,  letting  them  fall  just  where  I  liked — and  one,  I  remember 
fell  on  the  head  of  Mark,  where  I  daresay  it  remains  to  the 
present  day — the  parson,  who  was  one  of  the  description  of  people 
called  philosophers,  held  up  his  hand,  and  asked  me  to  let  the 
next  stone  I  flung  up  fall  into  it.  He  wished,  do  you  see,  to 
know  with  what  weight  the  stone  would  fall  down,  and  talked 
something  about  gravitation — a  word  which  I  could  never  under- 
stand to  the  present  day,  save  that  it  turned  out  a  grave  matter  to 
me.  I,  like  a  silly  fellow  myself,  must  needs  consent,  and,  flinging 
the  stone  up  to  a  vast  height,  contrived  so  that  it  fell  into  the 
parson's  hand,  which  it  cut  dreadfully.  The  parson  flew  into  a 
great  rage,  more  particularly  as  everybody  laughed  at  him,  and, 
being  a  magistrate,  ordered  his  clerk,  who  was  likewise  constable, 
to  conduct  me  to  prison  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond,  telling  my 
comrades  that  if  they  did  not  take  themselves  off,  he  would  serve 
them  in  the  same  manner.  So  Ned  hopped  off,  and  Giles  ran 
after  him,  without  making  any  gathering,  and  I  was  led  to 
Bridewell,  my  mittimus  following  at  the  end  of  a  week,  the 
parson's  hand  not  permitting  him  to  write  before  that  time.  In 
the  Bridewell  I  remained  a  month,  when,  being  dismissed,  I 
went  in  quest  of  my  companions,  whom,  after  some  time,  1  found 
up,  but  they  refused  to  keep  my  company  any  longer,  telling  me 


260  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

that  I  was  a  dangerous  character,  likely  to  bring  them  more 
trouble  than  profit ;  they  had,  moreover,  filled  up  my  place. 
Going  into  a  cottage  to  ask  for  a  drink  of  water,  they  saw  a  country 
fellow  making  faces  to  amuse  his  children;  the  faces  were  so 
wonderful  that  Hopping  Ned  and  Biting  Giles  at  once  proposed 
taking  him  into  partnership,  and  the  man — who  was  a  fellow  not 
very  fond  of  work — after  a  little  entreaty,  went  away  with  them. 
I  saw  him  exhibit  his  gift,  and  couldn't  blame  the  others  for 
preferring  him  to  me;  he  was  a  proper  ugly  fellow  at  all  times, 
but  when  he  made  faces  his  countenance  was  like  nothing  human. 
He  was  called  Ugly  Moses.  I  was  so  amazed  at  his  faces,  that 
though  poor  myself  I  gave  him  sixpence,  which  I  have  never 
grudged  to  this  day,  for  I  never  saw  anything  like  them.  The 
firm  throve  wonderfully  after  he  had  been  admitted  into  it.  He 
died  some  little  time  ago,  keeper  of  a  public-house,  which  he  had 
been  enabled  to  take  from  the  profits  of  his  faces.  A  son  of  his, 
one  of  the  children  he  was  making  faces  to  when  my  comrades 
entered  his  door,  is  at  present  a  barrister,  and  a  very  rising  one. 
He  has  his  gift — he  has  not,  it  is  true,  the  gift  of  the  gab,  but  he 
has  something  better,  he  was  born  with  a  grin  on  his  face,  a  quiet 
grin ;  he  would  not  have  done  to  grin  through  a  collar  like  his 
father,  and  would  never  have  been  taken  up  by  Hopping  Ned  and 
Biting  Giles,  but  that  grin  of  his  caused  him  to  be  noticed  by  a 
much  greater  person  than  either ;  an  attorney  observing  it  took  a 
liking  to  the  lad,  and  prophesied  that  he  would  some  day  be 
heard  of  in  the  world ;  and  in  order  to  give  him  the  first  lift,  took 
him  into  his  office,  at  first  to  light  fires  and  do  such  kind  of  work, 
and  after  a  little  time  taught  him  to  write,  then  promoted  him  to 
a  desk,  articled  him  afterwards,  and  being  unmarried,  and  without 
children,  left  him  what  he  had  when  he  died.  The  young  fellow, 
after  practising  at  the  law  some  time,  went  to  the  bar,  where,  in 
a  few  years,  helped  on  by  his  grin,  for  he  had  nothing  else  to 
recommend  him,  he  became,  as  I  said  before,  a  rising  barrister. 
He  comes  our  circuit,  and  I  occasionally  employ  him,  when  I  am 
obliged  to  go  to  law  about  such  a  thing  as  an  unsound  horse. 
He  generally  brings  me  through — or  rather  that  grin  of  his  does 
— and  yet  I  don't  like  the  fellow,  confound  him,  but  I'm  an 
oddity — no,  the  one  I  like,  and  whom  I  generally  employ,  is  a 
fellow  quite  different,  a  bluff  sturdy  dog,  with  no  grin  on  his  face 
but  with  a  look  which  seems  to  say  I  am  an  honest  man,  and 
what  cares  I  for  any  one  ?  And  an  honest  man  he  is,  and 
something  more.  I  have  known  coves  with  a  better  gift  of  the 
gab,  though  not  many,  but  he  always  speaks  to  the  purpose,  and 


1825.]  THE  BEST  ENDOWMENT.  261 

understands  law  thoroughly  ;  and  that's  not  all.  When  at  college, 
for  he  has  been  at  college,  he  carried  off  everything  before  him 
as  a  Latiner,  and  was  first-rate  at  a  game  they  call  matthew 
mattocks.  I  don't  know  exactly  what  it  is,  but  I  have  heard  that 
he  who  is  first-rate  at  matthew  mattocks  is  thought  more  of  than 
if  he  were  first-rate  Latiner. 

"Well,  the  chap  that  I'm  talking  about,  not  only  came  out 
first-rate  Latiner,  but  first-rate  at  matthew  mattocks  too,  doing,  in 
fact,  as  I  am  told  by  those  who  knows,  for  I  was  never  at  college 
myself,  what  no  one  had  ever  done  before.  Well,  he  makes  his 
appearance  at  our  circuit,  does  very  well,  of  course,  but  he  has  a 
somewhat  high  front,  as  becomes  an  honest  man,  and  one  who 
has  beat  every  one  at  Latin  and  matthew  mattocks;  and  who 
can  speak  first-rate  law  and  sense ;  but  see  now,  the  cove  with 
the  grin,  who  has  like  myself  never  been  at  college,  knows  no- 
thing of  Latin,  or  matthew  mattocks,  and  has  no  particular  gift 
of  the  gab,  has  two  briefs  for  his  one,  and  I  suppose  very  properly, 
for  that  grin  of  his  curries  favour  with  the  juries ;  and  mark  me, 
that  grin  of  his  will  enable  him  to  beat  the  other  in  the  long  run. 
We  all  know  what  all  barrister  coves  looks  forward  to — a  seat  on 
the  hop  sack.  Well,  I'll  bet  a  bull  to  fivepence  that  the  grinner 
gets  upon  it,  and  the  snarler  doesn't;  at  any  rate,  that  he  gets 
there  first.  I  calls  my  cove — for  he  is  my  cove — a  snarler; 
because  your  first-rates  at  matthew  mattocks  are  called  snarlers, 
and  for  no  other  reason ;  for  the  chap,  though  with  a  high  front, 
is  a  good  chap,  and  once  drank  a  glass  of  ale  with  me,  after 
buying  an  animal  out  of  my  stable.  I  have  often  thought  it  a 
pity  he  wasn't  born  with  a  grin  on  his  face  like  the  son  of  Ugly 
Moses.  It  is  true  he  would  scarcely  then  have  been  an  out  and 
outer  at  Latin  and  matthew  mattocks,  but  what  need  of  either  to 
a  chap  born  with  a  grin?  Talk  of  being  born  with  a  silver 
spoon  in  one's  mouth !  give  me  a  cove  born  with  a  grin  on  his 
face — a  much  better  endowment. 

"  I  will  now  shorten  my  history  as  much  as  I  can,  for  we  have 
talked  as  much  as  folks  do  during  a  whole  night  in  the  Commons' 
House,  though,  of  course,  not  with  so  much  learning,  or  so  much 
to  the  purpose,  because — why?  They  are  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  we  in  a  public  room  of  an  inn  at  Horncastle. 
The  goodness  of  the  ale,  do  ye  see,  never  depending  on  what 
it  is  made  of,  oh,  no !  but  on  the  fashion  and  appearance  of  the 
jug  in  which  it  is  served  up.  After  being  turned  out  of  the  firm, 
I  got  my  living  in  two  or  three  honest  ways,  which  I  shall  not 
trouble  you  with  describing.  I  did  not  like  any  of  them,  however, 


262  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

as  they  did  not  exactly  suit  my  humour ;  at  last  I  found  one  which 
did.  One  Saturday  forenoon,  I  chanced  to  be  in  the  cattle-market 
of  a  place  about  eighty  miles  from  here ;  there  I  won  the  favour 
of  an  old  gentleman  who  sold  dickeys.  He  had  a  very  shabby 
squad  of  animals,  without  soul  or  spirit ;  nobody  would  buy  them, 
till  I  leaped  upon  their  hinder  ends,  and  by  merely  wriggling  in  a 
particular  manner,  made  them  caper  and  bound  so  to  people's 
liking,  that  in  a  few  hours  every  one  of  them  was  sold  at  very 
sufficient  prices.  The  old  gentleman  was  so  pleased  with  my  skill, 
that  he  took  me  home  with  him,  and  in  a  very  little  time  into 
partnership.  It's  a  good  thing  to  have  a  gift,  but  yet  better 
to  have  two.  I  might  have  got  a  very  decent  livelihood  by  throw- 
ing stones,  but  I  much  question  whether  I  should  ever  have 
attained  to  the  position  in  society  which  I  now  occupy,  but  for 
my  knowledge  of  animals.  I  lived  very  comfortably  with  the  old 
gentleman  till  he  died,  which  he  did  about  a  fortnight  after 
he  had  laid  his  old  lady  in  the  ground.  Having  no  children,  he 
left  me  what  should  remain  after  he  had  been  buried  decently, 
and  the  remainder  was  six  dickeys  and  thirty  shillings  in  silver. 
I  remained  in  the  dickey  trade  ten  years,  during  which  time 
I  saved  a  hundred  pounds.  I  then  embarked  in  the  horse  line. 

One  day,  being  in  the market  on  a  Saturday,  I  saw  Mary 

Fulcher  with  a  halter  round  her  neck,  led  about  by  a  man,  who 
offered  to  sell  her  for  eighteenpence.  I  took  out  the  money 
forthwith  and  bought  her;  the  man  was  her  husband,  a  basket- 
maker,  with  whom  she  had  lived  several  years  without  having  any 
children ;  he  was  a  drunken,  quarrelsome  fellow,  and  having  had 
a  dispute  with  her  the  day  before,  he  determined  to  get  rid  of  her, 
by  putting  a  halter  round  her  neck  and  leading  her  to  the  cattle- 
market,  as  if  she  were  a  mare,  which  he  had,  it  seems,  a  right 
to  do,  all  women  being  considered  mares  by  old  English  law, 
and,  indeed  still  called  mares  in  certain  counties,  where  genuine 
old  English  is  still  preserved.  That  same  afternoon,  the  man  who 
had  been  her  husband,  having  got  drunk  in  a  public-house,  with 
the  money  which  he  had  received  for  her,  quarrelled  with  another 
man,  and  receiving  a  blow  under  the  ear,  fell  upon  the  floor, 
and  died  of  artiflex  ;  and  in  less  than  three  weeks  I  was  married 
to  Mary  Fulcher,  by  virtue  of  regular  banns.  I  am  told  she  was 
legally  my  property  by  virtue  of  my  having  bought  her  with  a 
halter  round  her  neck ;  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  think  every- 
body should  live  by  his  trade,  and  I  didn't  wish  to  act  shabbily 
towards  our  parson,  who  is  a  good  fellow,  and  has  certainly  a  ri^ht 
to  his  fees.  A  better  wife  than  Mary  Fulcher — I  mean  Mary 


1825.]  FAIR  DEALING.  263 

Dale — no  one  ever  had ;  she  has  borne  me  several  children,  and 
has  at  all  times  shown  a  willingness  to  oblige  me,  and  to  be  my 
faithful  wife.  Amongst  other  things,  I  begged  her  to  have  done 
with  her  family,  and  I  believe  she  has  never  spoken  to  them  since. 

"  I  have  thriven  very  well  in  business,  and  my  name  is  up  as 
being  a  person  who  can  be  depended  on,  when  folks  treats  me 
handsomely.  I  always  make  a  point  when  a  gentleman  comes 
to  me,  and  says,  'Mr.  Dale'  or  'John,'  for  I  have  no  objection 
to  be  called  John  by  a  gentleman — *  I  wants  a  good  horse,  and 
I  am  ready  to  pay  a  good  price' — I  always  makes  a  point,  I  say, 
to  furnish  him  with  an  animal  worth  the  money ;  but  when  I  sees 
a  fellow,  whether  he  calls  himself  gentleman  or  not,  wishing 
to  circumvent  me  what  does  I  do?  I  doesn't  quarrel  with  him; 
not  I ;  but,  letting  him  imagine  he  is  taking  me  in,  I  contrives 
to  sell  him  a  screw  for  thirty  pounds,  not  worth  thirty  shillings. 
All  honest,  respectable  people  have  at  present  great  confidence  in 
me,  and  frequently  commissions  me  to  buy  them  horses  at  great 
fairs  like  this. 

"This  short  young  gentleman  was  recommended  to  me  by 
a  great  landed  proprietor,  to  whom  he  bore  letters  of  recommenda- 
tion from  some  great  prince  in  his  own  country,  who  had  a  long 
time  ago  been  entertained  at  the  house  of  the  landed  proprietor, 
and  the  consequence  is,  that  I  brings  young  six  foot  six  to  Horn- 
castle,  and  purchases  for  him  the  horse  of  the  Romany  Rye.  I 
don't  do  these  kind  things  for  nothing,  it  is  true ;  that  can't  be 
expected,  for  every  one  must  live  by  his  trade ;  but,  as  I  said 
before,  when  I  am  treated  handsomely,  I  treat  folks  so.  Honesty, 
I  have  discovered,  as  perhaps  some  other  people  have,  is  by  far 
the  best  policy;  though,  as  I  also  said  before,  when  I'm 
along  with  thieves,  I  can  beat  them  at  their  own  game.  If 
I  am  obliged  to  do  it,  I  can  pass  off  the  veriest  screw  as  a  flying 
drummedary,  for  even  when  I  was  a  child  I  had  found  out 
by  various  means  what  may  be  done  with  animals.  I  wish  now 
to  ask  a  civil  question,  Mr.  Romany  Rye.  Certain  folks  have 
told  me  that  you  are  a  horse  witch  ;  are  you  one,  or  are  you  not  ?  " 

"I,  like  yourself,"  said  I,  "know,  to  a  certain  extent,  what 
may  be  done  with  animals." 

"  Then  how  would  you,  Mr.  Romany  Rye,  pass  off  the  veriest 
screw  in  the  world  for  a  flying  drummedary  ?  " 

"  By  putting  a  small  live  eel  down  his  throat ;  as  long  as  the 
eel  remained  in  his  stomach,  the  horse  would  appear  brisk  and 
lively  in  a  surprising  degree." 

"And  how   would  you  contrive   to  make   a  regular  kicker 


264  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

and  biter  appear  so  tame  and  gentle,  that  any  respectable  fat  old 
gentleman  of  sixty,  who  wanted  an  easy  goer,  would  be  glad 
to  purchase  him  for  fifty  pounds  ? " 

"  By  pouring  down  his  throat  four  pints  of  generous  old  ale, 
which  would  make  him  so  happy  and  comfortable,  that  he  would 
not  have  the  heart  to  kick  or  bite  anybody,  for  a  season  at  least." 

"  And  where  did  you  learn  all  this  ?  "  said  the  jockey. 

"  I  have  read  about  the  eel  in  an  old  English  book,  and  about 
the  making  drunk  in  a  Spanish  novel,  and,  singularly  enough, 
I  was  told  the  same  things  by  a  wild  blacksmith  in  Ireland.  Now 
tell  me,  do  you  bewitch  horses  in  this  way  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  said  the  jockey ;  "  mercy  upon  us  !  I  wouldn't  do  such 
things  for  a  hatful  of  money.  No,  no,  preserve  me  from  live  eels 
and  hocussing  !  And  now  let  me  ask  you,  how  you  would  spirit 
a  horse  out  of  a  field  ?  " 

"  How  would  I  spirit  a  horse  out  of  a  field  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  supposing  you  were  down  in  the  world,  and  had  deter- 
mined on  taking  up  the  horse-stealing  line  of  business." 

"  Why,  I  should But  I  tell  you  what,  friend,  I  see  you 

are  trying  to  pump  me,  and  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  will  hear 
something  from  you  with  respect  to  your  art,  before  I  tell  you 
anything  more.  Now,  how  would  you  whisper  a  horse  out  of  a 
field,  provided  you  were  down  in  the  world,  and  so  forth?" 

"  Ah,  ah,  I  see  you  are  up  to  a  game,  Mr.  Romany ;  however, 
I  am  a  gentleman  in  mind,  if  not  by  birth,  and  I  scorn  to  do  the 
unhandsome  thing  to  anybody  who  has  dealt  fairly  towards  me. 
Now,  you  told  me  something  I  didn't  know,  and  I'll  tell  you 
something  which  perhaps  you  do  know.  I  whispers  a  horse 
out  of  a  field  in  this  way :  I  have  a  mare  in  my  stable ;  well,  in 

the  early  season  of  the  year  I  goes  into  my  stable Well,  I 

puts  the  sponge  into  a  small  bottle  which  I  keeps  corked.  I 
takes  my  bottle  in  my  hand,  and  goes  into  a  field,  suppose  by 
night,  where  there  is  a  very  fine  stag  horse.  I  manage  with 
great  difficulty  to  get  within  ten  yards  of  the  horse,  who  stands 
staring  at  me  just  ready  to  run  away.  I  then  uncorks  my  bottle, 
presses  my  forefinger  to  the  sponge,  and  holds  it  out  to  the  horse, 
the  horse  gives  a  sniff,  then  a  start,  and  comes  nearer.  I  corks 
up  my  bottle  and  puts  it  into  my  pocket.  My  business  is  done, 
for  the  next  two  hours  the  horse  would  follow  me  anywhere — 
the  difficulty,  indeed,  would  be  to  get  rid  of  him.  Now,  is  that 
your  way  of  doing  business  ?  " 

"My  way  of  doing  business?  Mercy  upon  us!  I  wouldn't 
steal  a  horse  in  that  way,  or,  indeed,  in  any  way,  for  all  the  money 


1825.]  DARIUS  AND  (EBARES.  365 

in  the  world ;  however,  let  me  tell  you,  for  your  comfort,  that  a 
trick  somewhat  similar  is  described  in  the  history  of  Herodotus." 

"  In  the  history  of  Herod's  ass  !  "  said  the  jockey ;  "  well,  if  I 
did  write  a  book,  it  should  be  about  something  more  genteel  than 
a  dickey." 

"  I  did  not  say  Herod's  ass,"  said  I,  "  but  Herodotus,  a  very 
genteel  writer,  I  assure  you,  who  wrote  a  history  about  very  genteel 
people,  in  a  language  no  less  genteel  than  Greek,  more  than  two 
thousand  years  ago.  There  was  a  dispute  as  to  who  should  be 
king  amongst  certain  imperious  chieftains.  At  last  they  agreed 
to  obey  him  whose  horse  should  neigh  first  on  a  certain  day,  in 
front  of  the  royal  palace,  before  the  rising  of  the  sun ;  for  you 
must  know  that  they  did  not  worship  the  person  who  made  the 
sun  as  we  do,  but  the  sun  itself.  So  one  of  these  chieftains, 
talking  over  the  matter  to  his  groom,  and  saying  he  wondered 
who  would  be  king,  the  fellow  said  :  '  Why  you,  master,  or  I  don't 
know  much  about  horses '.  So  the  day  before  the  day  of  trial, 
what  does  the  groom  do,  but  takes  his  master's  horse  before  the 
palace  and  introduce  him  to  a  mare  in  the  stable,  and  then  lead 
him  forth  again.  Well,  early  the  next  day  all  the  chieftains  on 
their  horses  appeared  in  front  of  the  palace  before  the  dawn  of 
day.  Not  a  horse  neighed  but  one,  and  that  was  the  horse  of 
him  who  had  consulted  with  his  groom,  who,  thinking  of  the 
animal  within  the  stable,  gave  such  a  neigh  that  all  the  buildings 
rang.  His  rider  was  forthwith  elected  king,  and  a  brave  king  he 
was.  So  this  shows  what  seemingly  wonderful  things  may  be 
brought  about  by  a  little  preparation." 

"  It  doth,"  said  the  jockey ;  "  what  was  the  chap's  name  ?  " 

"  His  name — his  name — Darius  Hystaspes." 

"  And  the  groom's  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  And  he  made  a  good  king  ?  " 

"First-rate." 

"  Only  think  !  well,  if  he  made  a  good  king,  what  a  wonderful 
king  the  groom  would  have  made,  through  whose  knowledge  of 
'orses  he  was  put  on  the  throne.  And  now  another  question 
Mr.  Romany  Rye,  have  you  particular  words  which  have  power 
to  soothe  or  aggravate  horses?" 

"You  should  ask  me,"  said  I,  "whether  I  have  horses  that 
can  be  aggravated  or  soothed  by  particular  words.  No  words 
have  any  particular  power  over  horses  or  other  animals  who  have 
never  heard  them  before — how  should  they  ?  But  certain  animals 
connect  ideas  of  misery  or  enjoyment  with  particular  words  which 


266  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

they  are  acquainted  with.  I'll  give  you  an  example.  I  knew  a 
cob  in  Ireland  that  could  be  driven  to  a  state  of  kicking  madness 
by  a  particular  word,  used  by  a  particular  person,  in  a  particular 
tonex;  but  that  word  was  connected  with  a  very  painful  operation 
which  had  been  performed  upon  him  by  that  individual,  who  had 
frequently  employed  it  at  a  certain  period  whilst  the  animal  had 
been  under  his  treatment.  The  same  cob  could  be  soothed  in  a 
moment  by  another  word,  used  by  the  same  individual  in  a  very 
different  kind  of  tone ;  the  word  was  deaghblasda,  or  sweet  tasted. 
Some  time  after  the  operation,  whilst  the  cob  was  yet  under  his 
hands,  the  fellow — who  was  what  the  Irish  call  a  fairy  smith — had 
done  all  he  could  to  soothe  the  creature,  and  had  at  last  succeeded 
by  giving  it  gingerbread-buttons,  of  which  the  cob  became  passion- 
ately fond.  Invariably,  however,  before  giving  it  a  button,  he  said, 
'  Deaghblasda,'  with  which  word  the  cob  by  degrees  associated  an 
idea  of  unmixed  enjoyment :  so  if  he  could  rouse  the  cob  to 
madness  by  the  word  which  recalled  the  torture  to  its  remem- 
brance, he  could  as  easily  soothe  it  by  the  other  word,  which  the 
cob  knew  would  be  instantly  followed  by  the  button,  which  the 
smith  never  failed  to  give  him  after  using  the  word  dcaghblasda." 
"There  is  nothing  wonderful  to  be  done,"  said  the  jockey, 
"  without  a  good  deal  of  preparation,  as  I  know  myself.  Folks 
stare  and  wonder  at  certain  things  which  they  would  only  laugh 
at  if  they  knew  how  they  were  done ;  and  to  prove  what  I  say 
is  true,  I  will  give  you  one  or  two  examples.  Can  either  of  you 
lend  me  a  handkerchief?  That  won't  do/'  said  he,  as  I  presented 
him  with  a  silk  one.  "  I  wish  for  a  delicate  white  handkerchief. 
That's  just  the  kind  of  thing,"  said  he,  as  the  Hungarian  offered 
him  a  fine  white  cambric  handkerchief,  beautifully  worked  with 
gold  at  the  hems  ;  "  now  you  shall  see  me  set  this  handkerchief 
on  fire."  "  Dont  let  him  do  so  by  any  means,"  said  the  Hun- 
garian, speaking  to  me  in  German,  "  it  is  the  gift  of  a  lady  whom 
I  highly  admire,  and  I  would  not  have  it  burnt  for  the  world." 
"  He  has  no  occasion  to  be  under  any  apprehension,"  said  the 
jockey,  after  I  had  interpreted  to  him  what  the  Hungarian  had 
said,  "  I  will  restore  it  to  him  uninjured,  or  my  name  is  not 
Jack  Dale."  Then  sticking  the  handkerchief  carelessly  into  the 
left  side  of  his  bosom,  he  took  the  candle,  which  by  this  time 
had  burnt  very  low,  and  holding  his  head  back,  he  applied  the 
flame  to  the  handkerchief,  which  instantly  seemed  to  catch  fire. 
"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  he  to  the  Hungarian. 
"  Why,  that  you  have  ruined  me,"  said  the  latter.  "  No  harm 
done,  I  assure  you,"  said  the  jockey,  who  presently,  clapping 


1825.]  JOCKEY'S  TRICKS.  267 

his  hand  on  his  bosom  extinguished  the  fire,  and  returned  the 
handkerchief  to  the  Hungarian,  asking  him  if  it  was  burnt.  "  I 
see  no  burn  upon  it,"  said  the  Hungarian ;  "  but  in  the  name  of 
Gott,  how  could  you  set  it  on  fire  without  burning  it?"  "I 
never  set  it  on  fire  at  all,"  said  the  jockey;  "I  set  this  on  fire," 
showing  us  a  piece  of  half-burnt  calico.  "  I  placed  this  calico 
above  it,  and  lighted  not  the  handkerchief,  but  the  rag.  Now  I 
will  show  you  something  else.  I  have  a  magic  shilling  in  my 
pocket,  which  I  can  make  run  up  along  my  arm.  But,  first  of 
all,  I  would  glady  know  whether  either  of  you  can  do  the  like. 
Thereupon  the  Hungarian  and  myself,  putting  our  hands  into 
our  pockets,  took  out  shillings,  and  endeavoured  to  make  them 
run  up  our  arms,  but  utterly  failed ;  both  shillings,  after  we  had 
made  two  or  three  attempts,  falling  to  the  ground.  "  What 
noncomposses  you  both  are,"  said  the  jockey;  and  placing  a 
shilling  on  the  end  of  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand  he  made 
strange  faces  to  it,  drawing  back  his  head,  whereupon  the  shilling 
instantly  began  to  run  up  his  arm,  occasionally  hopping  and  jump- 
ing as  if  it  were  bewitched,  always  endeavouring  to  make  towards 
the  head  of  the  jockey. 

"  How  do  I  do  that  ? "  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  me. 
"I  really  do  not  know,"  said  I,  "unless  it  is  by  the  motion  of 
your  arm."  "The  motion  of  my  nonsense,"  said  the  jockey, 
and,  making  a  dreadful  grimace,  the  shilling  hopped  upon  his 
knee,  and  began  to  run  up  his  thigh  and  to  climb  up  his  breast. 
"  How  is  that  done  ?  "  said  he  again.  "  By  witchcraft,  I  suppose," 
said  I.  "  There  you  are  right,"  said  the  jockey ;  "  by  the  witch- 
craft of  one  of  Miss  Berners'  hairs ;  the  end  of  one  of  her  long 
hairs  is  tied  to  that  shilling  by  means  of  a  hole  in  it,  and  the 
other  end  goes  round  my  neck  by  means  of  a  loop;  so  that, 
when  I  draw  back  my  head,  the  shilling  follows  it.  I  suppose 
you  wish  to  know  how  I  got  the  hair,"  said  he,  grinning  at  me. 
"  I  will  tell  you.  I  once,  in  the  course  of  my  ridings,  saw  Miss 
Berners  beneath  a  hedge,  combing  out  her  long  hair,  and,  being 
rather  a  modest  kind  of  person,  what  must  I  do  but  get  off  my 
horse,  tie  him  to  a  gate,  go  up  to  her,  and  endeavour  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  her.  After  giving  her  the  sele  of  the  day, 
and  complimenting  her  on  her  hair,  I  asked  her  to  give  me  one 
of  the  threads ;  whereupon  she  gave  me  such  a  look,  and,  calling 
me  fellow,  told  me  to  take  myself  off.  '  I  must  have  a  hair  first,' 
said  I,  making  a  snatch  at  one.  I  believe  I  hurt  her;  but, 
whether  I  did  or  not,  up  she  started,  and,  though  her  hair  was 
unbound,  gave  me  the  only  drubbing  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  Lor  ! 


268  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

how,  with  her  right  hand,  she  fibbed  me  whilst  she  held  me  round 
the  neck  with  her  left  arm  ;  I  was  soon  glad  to  beg  her  pardon  on 
my  knees,  which  she  gave  me  in  a  moment,  when  she  saw  me  in 
that  condition,  being  the  most  placable  creature  in  the  world,  and 
not  only  her  pardon,  but  one  of  the  hairs  which  I  longed  for, 
which  I  put  through  a  shilling,  with  which  I  have  on  evenings 
after  fairs,  like  this,  frequently  worked  what  seemed  to  those  who 
looked  on  downright  witchcraft,  but  which  is  nothing  more  than 
pleasant  deception.  And  now,  Mr.  Romany  Rye,  to  testify  my 
regard  for  you,  I  give  you  the  shilling  and  the  hair.  I  think  you 
have  a  kind  of  respect  for  Miss  Berners ;  but  whether  you  have  or 
not,  keep  them  as  long  as  .you  can,  and  whenever  you  look  at  them 
think  of  the  finest  woman  in  England,  and  of  John  Dale,  the  jockey 
of  Horncastle.  I  believe  I  have  told  you  my  history,"  said  he — 
"no,  not  quite;  there  is  one  circumstance  I  had  passed  over.  I 
told  you  that  I  have  thriven  very  well  in  business,  and  so  I  have, 
upon  the  whole :  at  any  rate,  I  find  myself  comfortably  off  now. 
I  have  horses,  money,  and  owe  nobody  a  groat;  at  any  rate,  nothing 
but  what  I  could  pay  to-morrow.  Yet  I  have  had  my  dreary  day, 
ay,  after  I  had  obtained  what  I  call  a  station  in  the  world.  All  of 
a  sudden,  about  five  years  ago,  everything  seemed  to  go  wrong  with 
me — horses  became  sick  or  died,  people  who  owed  me  money 
broke  or  ran  away,  my  house  caught  fire,  in  fact,  everything  went 
against  me;  and  not  from  any  mismanagement  of  my  own.  I 
looked  round  for  help,  but — what  do  you  think? — nobody  would 
help  me.  Somehow  or  other  it  had  got  abroad  that  I  was  in 
difficulties,  and  everybody  seemed  disposed  to  avoid  me,  as  if  I 
had  got  the  plague.  Those  who  were  always  offering  me  help 
when  I  wanted  none,  now,  when  they  thought  me  in  trouble, 
talked  of  arresting  me.  Yes  ;  two  particular  friends  of  mine,  who 
had  always  been  offering  me  their  purses  when  my  own  was  stuffed 
full,  now  talked  of  arresting  me,  though  I  only  owed  the  scoun 
drels  a  hundred  pounds  each ;  and  they  would  have  done  so, 
provided  I  had  not  paid  them  what  I  owed  them ;  and  how  did 
I  do  that?  Why,  I  was  able  to  do  it  because  I  found  a  friend 
— and  who  was  that  friend?  Why,  a  man  who  has  since  been 
hung,  of  whom  everybody  has  heard,  and  of  whom  everybody  for 
the  next  hundred  years  will  occasionally  talk. 

"  One  day,  whilst  in  trouble,  I  was  visited  by  a  person  I  had 
occasionally  met  at  sporting  dinners.  He  came  to  look  after  a 
Suffolk  Punch,  the  best  horse,  by-the-bye,  that  anybody  can 
purchase  to  drive,  it  being  the  only  animal  of  the  horse  kind  in 
England  that  will  pull  twice  at  a  dead  weight.  I  told  him  that  I 


1825.]  THURTELL  AT  HERTFORD.  269 

had  none  at  that  time  that  I  could  recommend  ;  in  fact,  that  every 
horse  in  my  stable  was  sick.  He  then  invited  me  to  dine  with 
him  at  an  inn  close  by,  and  I  was  glad  to  go  with  him,  in  the  hope 
of  getting  rid  of  unpleasant  thoughts.  After  dinner,  during  which 
he  talked  nothing  but  slang,  observing  I  looked  very  melancholy, 
he  asked  me  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  and  I,  my  heart  being 
opened  by  the  wine  he  had  made  me  drink,  told  him  my  circum- 
stances without  reserve.  With  an  oath  or  two  for  not  having 
treated  him  at  first  like  a  friend,  he  said  he  would  soon  set  me  all 
right ;  and  pulling  out  two  hundred  pounds,  told  me  to  pay  him 
when  I  could.  I  felt  as  I  never  felt  before ;  however,  I  took  his 
notes,  paid  my  sneaks,  and  in  less  than  three  months  was  right 
again,  and  had  returned  him  his  money.  On  paying  it  to  him,  I 
said  that  I  had  now  a  Punch  which  would  just  suit  him,  saying 
that  I  would  give  it  to  him — a  free  gift — for  nothing.  He  swore 
at  me,  telling  me  to  keep  my  Punch,  for  that  he  was  suited 
already.  I  begged  him  to  tell  me  how  I  could  requite  him  for 
his  kindness,  whereupon,  with  the  most  dreadful  oath  I  ever  heard, 
he  bade  me  come  and  see  him  hanged  when  his  time  was  come. 
I  wrung  his  hand,  and  told  him  I  would,  and  I  kept  my  word. 

The  night  before  the  day  he  was  hanged  at  H ,  I  harnessed  a 

Suffolk  Punch  to  my  light  gig,  the  same  Punch  which  I  had  offered 
to  him,  which  I  have  ever  since  kept,  and  which  brought  me  and 
this  short  young  man  to  Horncastle,  and  in  eleven  hours  I  drove 

that  Punch  one  hundred  and  ten  miles.     I  arrived  at  H just 

in  the  nick  of  time.  There  was  the  ugly  jail,  the  scaffold,  and 
there  upon  it  stood  the  only  friend  I  ever  had  in  the  world. 
Driving  my  Punch,  which  was  all  in  a  foam,  into  the  midst  of  the 
crowd,  which  made  way  for  me  as  if  it  knew  what  I  came  for,  I 
stood  up  in  my  gig,  took  off  my  hat,  and  shouted  :  '  God  Almighty 
bless  you,  Jack  !  The  dying  man  turned  his  pale  grim  face  to- 
wards me — for  his  face  was  always  somewhat  grim,  do  you  see 
— nodded  and  said,  or  I  thought  I  heard  him  say :  '  All  right 

old  chap '.      The  next  moment my  eyes  water.     He  had  a 

high  heart,  got  into  a  scrape  whilst  in  the  marines,  lost  his  half- 
pay,  took  to  the  turf,  ring,  gambling,  and  at  last  cut  the  throat  of  a 
villain  who  had  robbed  him  of  nearly  all  he  had.  But  he  had 
good  qualities,  and  I  know  for  certain  that  he  never  did  half  the 
bad  things  laid  to  his  charge;  for  example,  he  never  bribed  Tom 
Oliver  to  fight  cross,  as  it  was  said  he  did  on  the  day  of  the  awful 
thunder-storm.  Ned  Flatnose  fairly  beat  Tom  Oliver,  for  though 
Ned  was  not  what's  called  a  good  fighter,  he  had  a  particular  blow, 
which  if  he  could  put  in  he  was  sure  to  win.  His  right  shoulder, 


270  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 


do  you  see,  was  two  inches  farther  back  than  it  ought  to  have 
been,  and  consequently  his  right  fist  generally  fell  short;  but  if 
he  could  swing  himself  round,  and  put  in  a  blow  with  that  right 
arm,  he  could  kill  or  take  away  the  senses  of  anybody  in  the 
world.  It  was  by  putting  in  that  blow  in  his  second  fight  with 
Spring  that  he  beat  noble  Tom.  Spring  beat  him  like  a  sack  in 
the  first  battle,  but  in  the  second  Ned  Painter — for  that  was  his 
real  name — contrived  to  put  in  his  blow,  and  took  the  senses  out  of 
Spring  ;  and  in  like  manner  he  took  the  senses  out  of  Tom  Oliver. 
"  Well,  some  are  born  to  be  hanged,  and  some  are  not ;  and 
many  of  those  who  are  not  hanged  are  much  worse  than  those  who 
are.  Jack,  with  many  a  good  quality,  is  hanged,  whilst  that  fellow 
of  a  lord,  who  wanted  to  get  the  horse  from  you  at  about  two- 
thirds  of  his  value,  without  a  single  good  quality  in  the  world,  is 
not  hanged,  and  probably  will  remain  so.  You  ask  the  reason 
why,  perhaps.  I'll  tell  you ;  the  lack  of  a  certain  quality  called 
courage,  which  Jack  possessed  in  abundance,  will  'preserve  him ; 
from  the  love  which  he  bears  his  own  neck  he  will  do  nothing 
which  can  bring  him  to  the  gallows.  In  my  rough  way  I'll  draw 
their  characters  from  their  childhood,  and  then  ask  whether  Jack 
was  not  the  best  character  of  the  two.  Jack  was  a  rough,  audacious 
boy,  fond  of  fighting,  going  a  birds'-nesting,  but  I  never  heard  he 
did  anything  particularly  cruel  save  once,  I  believe,  tying  a  canister 
to  a  butcher's  dog's  tail ;  whilst  this  fellow  of  a  lord  was  by  nature 
a  savage  beast,  and  when  a  boy  would  in  winter  pluck  poor  fowls 
naked,  and  set  them  running  on  the  ice  and  in  the  snow,  and  was 
particularly  fond  of  burning  cats  alive  in  the  fire.  Jack,  when  a 
lad,  gets  a  commission  on  board  a  ship  as  an  officer  of  horse  marines, 
and  in  two  or  three  engagements  behaves  quite  up  to  the  mark — 
at  least  of  a  marine,  the  marines  having  no  particular  character 
for  courage,  you  know — never  having  run  to  the  guns  and  fired 
them  like  madmen  after  the  blue  jackets  had  had  more  than 
enough.  Oh,  dear  me,  no  !  My  lord  gets  into  the  valorous  British 
army,  where  cowardice — oh,  dear  me ! — is  a  thing  almost  entirely 
unknown  ;  and  being  on  the  field  of  Waterloo  the  day  before  the 
battle,  falls  off  his  horse,  and,  pretending  to  be  hurt  in  the  back, 
gets  himself  put  on  the  sick  list — a  pretty  excuse — hurting  his 
back — for  not  being  present  at  such  a  fight.  Old  Benbow,  after 
part  of  both  his  legs  had  been  shot  away  in  a  sea-fight,  made  the 
carpenter  make  him  a  cradle  to  hold  his  bloody  stumps,  and  con- 
tinued on  deck,  cheering  his  men  till  he  died.  Jack  returns  home, 
and  gets  into  trouble,  and  having  nothing  to  subsist  by  but  his 
wits,  gets  his  living  by  the  ring,  and  the  turf,  and  gambling,  doing 


1825.]  THE  TWO  CHARACTERS.  271 

many  an  odd  kind  of  thing,  I  dare  say,  but  not  half  those  laid  to 
his  charge.  My  lord  does  much  the  same  without  the  excuse  for 
doing  so  which  Jack  had,  for  he  had  plenty  of  means,  is  a  leg,  and 
a  black,  only  in  a  more  polished  way,  and  with  more  cunning,  and 
I  may  say  success,  having  done  many  a  rascally  Jh ing  never  laid  to 
his  charge.  Jack  at  last  cuts  the  throat  of  a  villain  who  had  cheated 
him  of  all  he  had  in  the  world,  and  who,  I  am  told,  was  in  many 
points  the  counterpart  of  this  screw  and  white  feather,  is  taken  up, 
tried,  and  executed ;  and  certainly  taking  away  a  man's  life  is  a 
dreadful  thing;  but  is  their  nothing  as  bad?  Whitefeather  will 
cut  no  person's  throat — I  will  not  say  who  has  cheated  him,  for. 
being  a  cheat  himself,  he  will  take  good  care  that  nobody  cheats 
him,  but  he'll  do  something  quite  as  bad ;  out  of  envy  to  a  person 
who  never  injured  him,  and  whom  he  hates  for  being  more  clever 
and  respected  than  himself,  he  will  do  all  he  possibly  can,  by 
backbiting  and  every  unfair  means,  to  do  that  person  a  mortal 
injury.  But  Jack  is  hanged,  and  my  lord  is  not.  Is  that  right? 
My  wife,  Mary  Fulcher — I  beg  her  pardon,  Mary  Dale — who  is 
a  Methodist,  and  has  heard  the  mighty  preacher,  Peter  Williams, 
says  some  people  are  preserved  from  hanging  by  the  grace  of  God. 
With  her  I  differs,  and  says  it  is  from  want  of  courage.  This 
Whitefeather,  with  one  particle  of  Jack's  courage,  and  with  one 
tithe  of  his  good  qualities,  would  have  been  hanged  long  ago,  for 
he  has  ten  times  Jack's  malignity.  Jack  was  hanged  because, 
along  with  his  bad  qualities,  he  had  courage  and  generosity ;  this 
fellow  is  not,  because  with  all  Jack's  bad  qualities,  and  many  more, 
amongst  which  is  cunning,  he  has  neither  courage  nor  generosity. 
Think  of  a  fellow  like  that  putting  down  two  hundred  pounds  to 
relieve  a  distressed  fellow-creature ;  why  he  would  rob,  but  for  the 
law  and  the  fear  it  fills  him  with,  a  workhouse  child  of  its  breakfast, 
as  the  saying  is — and  has  been  heard  to  say  that  he  would  not 
trust  his  own  father  for  sixpence,  and  he  can't  imagine  why  such 
a  thing  as  credit  should  be  ever  given.  I  never  heard  a  person 
give  him  a  good  word — stay,  stay,  yes  !  I  once  heard  an  old  parson, 
to  whom  I  sold  a  Punch,  say  that  he  had  the  art  of  receiving  com- 
pany gracefully  and  dismissing  them  without  refreshment.  I  don't 
wish  to  be  too  hard  with  him,  and  so  let  him  make  the  most  of 
that  compliment.  Well !  he  manages  to  get  on,  whilst  Jack  is 
hanged ;  not  quite  enviably,  however ;  he  has  had  his  rubs,  and 
pretty  hard  ones — everybody  knows  he  slunk  from  Waterloo,  and 
occasionally  checks  him  with  so  doing  ;  whilst  he  has  been  rejected 
by  a  woman — what  a  mortification  to  the  low  pride  of  which  the 
scoundrel  has  plenty !  There's  a  song  about  both  circumstances, 


272  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

which  may,  perhaps,  ring  in  his  ears  on  a  dying  bed.  It's  a  funny 
kind  of  song,  set  to  the  old  tune  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant  or  Deputy, 
and  with  it  I  will  conclude  my  discourse,  for  I  really  think  it's 
past  one."  The  jockey  then,  with  a  very  tolerable  voice,  sung  the 
following  song : — 

THE  JOCKEY'S  SONG. 

Now  list  to  a  ditty  both  funny  and  true  1 — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along — 
A  ditty  that  tells  of  a  coward  and  screw, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

Sir  Plume,  though  not  liking  a  bullet  at  all, — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along — 
Had  yet  resolution  to  go  to  a  ball, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

"  Woulez  wous  danser,  mademoiselle  ?  " — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along ; — 
Said  she,  "  Sir,  to  dance  I  should  like  very  well," 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

They  danc'd  to  the  left,  and  they  danc'd  to  the  right, — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along  ; — 
And  her  troth  the  fair  damsel  bestow'd  on  the  knight, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

"  Now,  what  shall  I  fetch  you,  mademoiselle  ?  " — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along ; — 
Said  she,  "  Sir,  an  ice  I  should  like  very  well," 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

But  the  ice,  when  he'd  got  it,  he  instantly  ate, — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along ; — 
Although  his  poor  partner  was  all  in  a  fret, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

He  ate  up  the  ice  like  a  prudent  young  lord, — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along ; — 
For  he  saw  't  was  the  very  last  ice  on  the  board, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

"  Now,  when  shall  we  marry  ?  "  the  gentleman  cried ; — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along ; — 
"  Sir,  get  you  to  Jordan,"  the  damsel  replied, 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

"  I  never  will  wed  with  the  pitiful  elf" — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along — 
"  Who  ate  up  the  ice  which  I  wanted  myself," 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 

"  I'd  pardon  your  backing  from  red  Waterloo," — 

Merrily  moves  the  dance  along — 
*'  But  I  never  will  wed  with  a  coward  and  screw," 

My  Lord-Lieutenant  so  free  and  young. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


THE  next  morning  I  began  to  think  of  departing ;  I  had  sewed 
up  the  money  which  I  had  received  for  the  horse  in  a  portion 
of  my  clothing,  where  I  entertained  no  fears  for  its  safety,  with 
the  exception  of  a  small  sum  in  notes,  gold  and  silver,  which 
I  carried  in  my  pocket.  Ere  departing,  however,  I  determined 
to  stroll  about  and  examine  the  town,  and  observe  more  particularly 
the  humours  of  the  fair  than  I  had  hitherto  an  opportunity 
of  doing.  The  town,  when  I  examined  it,  offered  no  object 
worthy  of  attention  but  its  church — an  edifice  of  some  antiquity ; 
under  the  guidance  of  an  old  man,  who  officiated  as  sexton, 
I  inspected  its  interior  attentively,  occasionally  conversing  with 
my  guide,  who,  however,  seemed  much  more  disposed  to  talk 
about  horses  than  the  church.  "  No  good  horses  in  the  fair  this 
time,  measter,"  said  he  ;  "none  but  one  brought  hither  by  a  chap 
whom  nobody  knows,  and  bought  by  a  foreigneering  man,  who 
came  here  with  Jack  Dale.  The  horse  fetched  a  good  swinging 
price,  which  is  said,  however,  to  be  much  less  than  its  worth  ; 
for  the  horse  is  a  regular  clipper ;  not  such  a  one  'tis  said,  has 
been  seen  in  the  fair  for  several  summers.  Lord  Whitefeather 
says  that  he  believes  the  fellow  who  brought  him  to  be  a  highway- 
man, and  talks  of  having  him  taken  up,  but  Lord  Whitefeather 
is  only  in  a  rage  because  he  could  not  get  him  for  himself.  The 
chap  would  not  sell  it  to  un  ;  Lord  Screw  wanted  to  beat  him 
down,  and  the  chap  took  huff,  said  he  wouldn't  sell  it  to  him  at  no 
price,  and  accepted  the  offer  of  the  foreigneering  man,  or  of  Jack, 
who  was  his  'terpreter,  and  who  scorned  to  higgle  about  such  an 
hanimal,  because  Jack  is  a  gentleman,  though  bred  a  dickey-boy, 
whilst  'tother,  though  bred  a  Lord,  is  a  screw  and  a  Whitefeather. 
Every  one  says  the  cove  was  right,  and  I  says  so  too;  I  likes 
spirit,  and  if  the  cove  were  here,  and  in  your  place,  measter, 
I  would  invite  him  to  drink  a  pint  of  beer.  Good  horses  are  scarce 
now,  measter,  ay,  and  so  are  good  men,  quite  a  different  set  from 
what  there  were  when  I  was  young ;  that  was  the  time  for  men 
and  horses.  Lord  bless  you,  I  know  all  the  breeders  about  here ; 
they  are  not  a  bad  set,  and  they  breed  a  very  fairish  set  of  horses, 

(273)  18 


274  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

but  they  are  not  like  what  their  fathers  were,  nor  are  their  horses 

like  their  fathers'  horses.     Now  there  is  Mr ,  the  great  breeder, 

a  very  fairish  man,  with  very  fairish  horses ;  but,  Lord  bless  you, 
he's  nothing  to  what  his  father  was,  nor  his  steeds  to  his  father's ; 
I  ought  to  know,  for  I  was  at  the  school  here  with  his  father,  and 
afterwards  for  many  a  year  helped  him  to  get  up  his  horses  ;  that 
was  when  I  was  young,  measter — those  were  the  days.  You  look 
at  that  monument,  measter,"  said  he,  as  I  stopped  and  looked 
attentively  at  a  monument  on  the  southern  side  of  the  church 
near  the  altar ;  "  that  was  put  up  for  a  rector  of  this  church,  who 
lived  a  long  time  ago,  in  Oliver's  time,  and  was  ill-treated  and 
imprisoned  by  Oliver  and  his  men  ;  you  will  see  all  about  it  on 
the  monument.  There  was  a  grand  battle  fought  nigh  this  place, 
between  Oliver's  men  and  the  Royal  party,  and  the  Royal  party 
had  the  worst  of  it,  as  I'm  told  they  generally  had ;  and  Oliver's 
men  came  into  the  town,  and  did  a  great  deal  of  damage,  and 
ill-treated  the  people.  I  can't  remember  anything  about  the 
matter  myself,  for  it  happened  just  one  hundred  years  before 
I  was  born,  but  my  father  was  acquainted  with  an  old  countryman, 
who  lived  not  many  miles  from  here,  who  said  he  remembered 
perfectly  well  the  day  of  the  battle ;  that  he  was  a  boy  at  the 
time,  and  was  working  in  a  field  near  the  place  where  the  battle 
was  fought,  and  he  heard  shouting  and  noise  of  firearms,  and  also 
the  sound  of  several  balls,  which  fell  in  the  field  near  him.  Come 
this  way,  measter,  and  I  will  show  you  some  remains  of  that  day's 
field."  Leaving  the  monument,  on  which  was  inscribed  an  account 
of  the  life  and  sufferings  of  the  Royalist  Rector  of  Horncastle, 

I  followed  the  sexton  to  the  western  end  of  the  church,  where, 
hanging  against  the  wall,  were  a  number  of  scythes  stuck  in  the 
ends  of  poles.     "  Those  are  the  weapons,  measter,"  said  the  sexton, 

II  which  the  great  people  put  into  the  hands  of  a  number  of  the 
country  folks,  in  order  that  they  might  use  them  against  Oliver's 
men ;  ugly  weapons  enough ;  however,  Oliver's  men  won,  and  Sir 
Jacob  Ashley  and  his  party  were  beat.     And  a  rare  time  Oliver 
and  his  men  had  of  it,  till  Oliver  died,  when  the  other  party  got 
the  better,  not  by  fighting,  'tis  said,  but  through  a  General  Monk, 
who  turned  sides.      Ah,  the  old  fellow  that  my  father  knew  said 
he  well  remembered  the  time  when  General  Monk  went  over 
and  proclaimed  Charles  the  Second.     Bonfires  were  lighted  every- 
where, oxen  roasted,  and  beer  drunk   by  pailfuls ;    the  country 
folks  were  drunk  with  joy,  and  something  else ;  sung  scurvy  songs 
about  Oliver  to  the  tune  of  Barney  Banks,  and  pelted  his  men, 
wherever  they  found  them,  with  stones  and  dirt."     "The  more 


1825.]  THE  CHURCH.  275 

ungrateful  scoundrels  they,"  said  I.  "Oliver  and  his  men  fought 
the  battle  of  English  independence  against  a  wretched  king 
and  corrupt  lords.  Had  I  been  living  at  the  time,  I  should  have 
been  proud  to  be  a  trooper  of  Oliver."  "You  would,  measter, 
would  you  ?  Well,  I  never  quarrels  with  the  opinions  of  people 
who  come  to  look  at  the  church,  and  certainly  independence 
is  a  fine  thing.  I  like  to  see  a  chap  of  an  independent  spirit, 
and  if  I  were  now  to  see  the  cove  who  refused  to  sell  his  horse 
to  my  Lord  Screw  and  Whitefeather,  and  let  Jack  Dale  have  him, 
I  would  offer  to  treat  him  to  a  pint  of  beer — e'es,  I  would,  verily. 
Well,  measter,  you  have  now  seen  the  church,  and  all  there's  in  it 
worth  seeing — so  I'll  just  lock  up,  and  go  and  finish  digging 
the  grave  I  was  about  when  you  came,  after  which  I  must  go  into 
the  fair  to  see  how  matters  are  going  on.  Thank  ye,  measter," 
said  he,  as  I  put  something  into  his  hand  ;  "  thank  ye  kindly ;  'tis 
not  every  one  who  gives  me  a  shilling  now-a-days  who  comes 
to  see  the  church,  but  times  are  very  different  from  what  they 
were  when  I  was  young ;  I  was  not  sexton  then,  but  something 

better ;   helped  Mr. with  his  horses,  and  got  many  a  broad 

crown.  Those  were  the  days,  measter,  both  for  men  and  horses ; 
and  I  say,  measter,  if  men  and  horses  were  so  much  better  when 
I  was  young  than  they  are  now,  what,  I  wonder,  must  they  have 
been  in  the  time  of  Oliver  and  his  men  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

LEAVING  the  church,  I  strolled  through  the  fair,  looking  at  the 
horses,  listening  to  the  chaffering  of  the  buyers  and  sellers,  and 
occasionally  putting  in  a  word  of  my  own,  which  was  not  always 
received  with  much  deference ;  suddenly,  however,  on  a  whisper 
arising  that  I  was  the  young  cove  who  had  brought  the  wonderful 
horse  to  the  fair  which  Jack  Dale  had  bought  for  the  foreigneering 
man,  I  found  myself  an  object  of  the  greatest  attention ;  those 
who  had  before  replied  with  stuff !  and  nonsense  !  to  what  I  said, 
now  listened  with  the  greatest  eagerness  to  any  nonsense  which  I 
chose  to  utter,  and  I  did  not  fail  to  utter  a  great  deal ;  presently, 
however,  becoming  disgusted  with  the  beings  about  me,  I  forced  my 
way,  not  very  civilly,  through  my  crowd  of  admirers ;  and  passing 
through  an  alley  and  a  back  street,  at  last  reached  an  outskirt 
of  the  fair,  where  no  person  appeared  to  know  me.  Here  I  stood, 
looking  vacantly  on  what  was  going  on,  musing  on  the  strange 
infatuation  of  my  species,  who  judge  of  a  person's  words,  not  from 
their  intrinsic  merit,  but  from  the  opinion — generally  an  erroneous 
one — which  they  have  formed  of  the  person.  From  this  reverie 
I  was  roused  by  certain  words  which  sounded  near  me,  uttered 
in  a  strange  tone,  and  in  a  strange  cadence — the  words  were, 
"  them  that  finds,  wins ;  and  them  that  can't  find,  loses".  Turn- 
ing my  eyes  in  the  direction  from  which  the  words  proceeded, 
I  saw  six  or  seven  people,  apparently  all  countrymen,  gathered 
round  a  person  standing  behind  a  tall  white  table  of  very  small 

compass.     "  What  1 "  said  I,  "  the  thimble-engro  of Fair  here 

at  Horncastle."  Advancing  nearer,  however,  I  perceived  that 
though  the  present  person  was  a  thimble-engro,  he  was  a  very  differ- 
ent one  from  my  old  acquaintance  of Fair.  The  present  one 

was  a  fellow  about  half  a  foot  taller  than  the  other.  He  had  a 
long,  haggard,  wild  face,  and  was  dressed  in  a  kind  of  jacket, 
something  like  that  of  a  soldier,  with  dirty  hempen  trousers,  and 
with  a  foreign-looking  peaked  hat  on  his  head.  He  spoke  with 
an  accent  evidently  Irish,  and  occasionally  changed  the  usual 
thimble  formule  into,  "  them  that  finds,  wins,  and  them  that  can't 
— och,  sure ! — they  loses  " ;  saying  also  frequently,  "  your  honour," 


1825.]  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE.  277 

instead  of  "my  lord".  I  observed,  on  drawing  nearer,  that  he 
handled  the  pea  and  thimble  with  some  awkwardness,  like  that 
which  might  be  expected  from  a  novice  in  the  trade.  He  contrived, 
however,  to  win  several  shillings,  for  he  did  not  seem  to  play  for 
gold,  from  " their  honours".  Awkward  as  he  was,  he  evidently 
did  his  best,  and  never  flung  a  chance  away  by  permitting  any 
one  to  win.  He  had  just  won  three  shillings  from  a  farmer,  who, 
incensed  at  his  loss,  was  calling  him  a  confounded  cheat,  and 
saying  that  he  would  play  no  more,  when  up  came  my  friend  of 
the  preceding  day,  Jack,  the  jockey.  This  worthy,  after  looking 
at  the  thimble-man  a  moment  or  two,  with  a  peculiarly  crafty 
glance,  cried  out,  as  he  clapped  down  a  shilling  on  the  table.  "  I 
will  stand  you,  old  fellow  ! "  "  Them  that  finds,  wins ;  and  them 
that  can't — och,  sure  !— they  loses,"  said  the  thimble-man.  The 
game  commenced,  and  Jack  took  up  the  thimble  without  finding 
the  pea;  another  shilling  was  produced,  and  lost  in  the  same 
manner :  "  this  is  slow  work,"  said  Jack,  banging  down  a  guinea 
on  the  table;  "can  you  cover  that,  old  fellow?"  The  man  of 
the  thimble  looked  at  the  gold,  and  then  at  him  who  produced  it, 
and  scratched  his  head.  "  Come,  cover  that,  or  I  shall  be  off," 
said  the  jockey.  "  Och,  sure,  my  lord  ! — no,  I  mean  your  honour 
— no,  sure,  your  lordship,"  said  the  other,  "  if  I  covers  it  at  all,  it 
must  be  with  silver,  for  divil  a  bit  of  gold  have  I  by  me."  "  Well, 
then,  produce  the  value  in  silver,"  said  the  jockey,  "and  do  it 
quickly,  for  I  can't  be  staying  here  all  day."  The  thimble-man 
hesitated,  looked  at  Jack  with  a  dubious  look,  then  at  the  gold,  and 
then  scratched  his  head.  There  was  now  a  laugh  amongst  the 
surrounders,  which  evidently  nettled  the  fellow,  who  forthwith 
thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  pulling  out  all  his  silver 
treasure,  just  contrived  to  place  the  value  of  the  guinea  on  the 
table.  "Them  that  finds,  wins,  and  them  that  can't  find — loses" 
interrupted  Jack,  lifting  up  a  thimble,  out  of  which  rolled  a  pea. 
"  There,  paddy,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? "  said  he,  seizing 
the  heap  of  silver  with  one  hand,  whilst  he  pocketed  the  guinea 
with  the  other.  The  thimble-engro  stood,  for  some  time,  like  one 
transfixed,  his  eyes  glaring  wildly,  now  at  the  table,  and  now  at 
his  successful  customer ;  at  last  he  said :  "  Arrah,  sure,  master ! 
— no,  I  manes  my  lord — you  are  not  going  to  ruin  a  poor  boy  ! " 
"Ruin  you!"  said  the  other;  "what!  by  winning  a  guinea's 
change?  a  pretty  small  dodger  you — if  you  have  not  sufficient 
capital,  why  do  you  engage  in  so  deep  a  trade  as  thimbling  ?  come, 
will  you  stand  another  game?"  "Och,  sure,  master,  no!  the 
twenty  shillings  and  one  which  you  have  chated  me  of  were  all 


278  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

I  had  in  the  world."  "  Cheated  you,"  said  Jack,  "say  that  again, 
and  I  will  knock  you  down."  "  Arrah  !  sure,  master,  you  knows 
that  the  pea  under  the  thimble  was  not  mine;  here  is  mine 
master;  now  give  me  back  my  money."  "A  likely  thing,"  said 
Jack;  "no,  no,  I  know  a  trick  worth  two  or  three  of  that; 
whether  the  pea  was  yours  or  mine,  you  will  never  have  your 
twenty  shillings  and  one  again ;  and  if  I  have  ruined  you,  all  the 
better ;  I'd  gladly  ruin  all  such  villains  as  you,  who  ruin  poor  men 
with  your  dirty  tricks,  whom  you  would  knock  down  and  rob 
on  the  road,  if  you  had  but  courage :  not  that  I  mean  to  keep 
your  shillings,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  you  cheated  from  me, 
which  I'll  keep.  A  scramble,  boys  !  a  scramble  ! "  said  he,  flinging 
up  all  the  silver  into  the  air,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  shillings  ; 
and  a  scramble  there  instantly  was,  between  the  rustics  who  had 
lost  their  money  and  the  urchins  who  came  running  up ;  the  poor 
thimble-engro  tried  likewise  to  have  his  share ;  but  though  he 
flung  himself  down,  in  order  to  join  more  effectually  in  the  scramble, 
he  was  unable  to  obtain  a  single  sixpence ;  and  having  in  his  rage 
given  some  of  his  fellow-scramblers  a  cuff  or  two,  he  was  set  upon 
by  the  boys  and  country  fellows,  and  compelled  to  make  an  in- 
glorious retreat  with  his  table,  which  had  been  flung  down  in  the 
scuffle,  and  had  one  of  its  legs  broken.  As  he  retired,  the  rabble 
hooted,  and  Jack,  holding  up  in  derision  the  pea  with  which  he 
had  out-manoeuvred  him,  exclaimed :  "  I  always  carry  this  in  my 
pocket  in  order  to  be  a  match  for  vagabonds  like  you  ". 

The  tumult  over,  Jack  gone,  and  the  rabble  dispersed,  I 
followed  the  discomfited  adventurer  at  a  distance,  who,  leaving 
the  town,  went  slowly  on,  carrying  his  dilapidated  piece  of 
furniture,  till  coming  to  an  old  wall  by  the  roadside,  he  placed  it 
on  the  ground,  and  sat  down,  seemingly  in  deep  despondency, 
holding  his  thumb  to  his  mouth.  Going  nearly  up  to  him,  I 
stood  still,  whereupon  he  looked  up,  and  perceiving  I  was  looking 
steadfastly  at  him,  he  said,  in  a  angry  tone  :  "  Arrah  !  what  for  are 
you  staring  at  me  so  ?  By  my  shoul,  I  think  you  are  one  of  the 
thaives  who  are  after  robbing  me.  I  think  I  saw  you  among 
them,  and  if  I  were  only  sure  of  it,  I  would  take  the  liberty  of 
trying  to  give  you  a  big  bating."  "  You  have  had  enough  of  trying 
to  give  people  a  beating,"  said  I ;  "you  had  better  be  taking  your 
table  to  some  skilful  carpenter  to  get  it  repaired.  He  will  do  it 
for  sixpence."  "  Divil  a  sixpence  did  you  and  your  thaives  leave 
me,"  said  he ;  "  and  if  you  do  not  take  yourself  off,  joy,  I  will  be 
breaking  your  ugly  head  with  the  foot  of  it."  "  Arrah,  Murtagh  ! w 
said  I,  "  would  ye  be  breaking  the  head  of  your  friend  and  scholar, 


I825-]  THE  TALE  OF  FINN.  279 

to  whom  you  taught  the  blessed  tongue  of  Oilien  nan  Naomha,  in 
exchange  for  a  pack  of  cards  ?  "  Murtagh,  for  he  it  was,  gazed  at 
me  for  a  moment  with  a  bewildered  look ;  then,  with  a  gleam  of 
intelligence  in  his  eye,  he  said  :  "  Shorsha !  no,  it  can't  be — yes 
by  my  faith  it  is  !  "  Then,  springing  up  and  seizing  me  by  the 
hand,  he  said :  "  Yes,  by  the  powers,  sure  enough  it  is  Shorsha 
agra !  Arrah,  Shorsha !  where  have  you  been  this  many  a  day  ? 
Sure,  you  are  not  one  of  the  spalpeens  who  are  after  robbing  me  ?  " 
"Not  I,"  I  replied,  "but  I  saw  all  that  happened.  Come,  you 
must  not  take  matters  so  to  heart;  cheer  up;  such  things  will 
happen  in  connection  with  the  trade  you  have  taken  up." 
"  Sorrow  befall  the  trade,  and  the  thief  who  taught  it  me,"  said 
Murtagh ;  "  and  yet  the  trade  is  not  a  bad  one,  if  I  only  knew 
more  of  it,  and  had  some  one  to  help  and  back  me.  Och  !  the 
idea  of  being  cheated  and  bamboozled  by  that  one-eyed  thief  in 
the  horseman's  dress."  "  Let  bygones  be  bygones,  Murtagh,"  said 
I ;  "  it  is  no  use  grieving  for  the  past ;  sit  down,  and  let  us  have  a 
little  pleasant  gossip.  Arrah,  Murtagh !  when  I  saw  you  sitting 
under  the  wall,  with  your  thumb  to  your  mouth,  it  brought  to  my 
mind  tales  which  you  used  to  tell  me  all  about  Finn-ma-Coul.  You 
have  not  forgotten  Finn-ma-Coul,  Murtagh,  and  how  he  sucked 
wisdom  out  of  his  thumb."  "  Sorrow  a  bit  have  I  forgot  about  him, 
Shorsha,"  said  Murtagh,  as  we  sat  down  together,  "  nor  what  you 
yourself  told  me  about  the  snake.  Arrah,  Shorsha !  what  ye  told 
me  about  the  snake  bates  anything  I  ever  told  you  about  Finn. 
Ochone,  Shorsha  !  perhaps  you  will  be  telling  me  about  the  snake 
once  more  ?  I  think  the  tale  would  do  me  good,  and  I  have  need 
of  comfort,  God  knows,  ochone  ! "  Seeing  Murtagh  in  such  a 
distressed  plight,  I  forthwith  told  him  over  again  the  tale  of  the 
snake,  in  precisely  the  same  words  as  I  have  related  it  in  the  first 
part  of  this  history.  After  which,  I  said  :  "  Now,  Murtagh,  tit  for 
tat ;  ye  will  be  telling  me  one  of  the  old  stories  of  Finn-ma-Coul ". 
"  Och,  Shorsha  I  I  haven't  heart  enough,"  said  Murtagh.  "  Thank 
you  for  your  tale,  but  it  makes  me  weep ;  it  brings  to  my  mind 
Dungarvon  times  of  old — I  mean  the  times  we  were  at  school 
together."  "  Cheer  up,  man,"  said  I,  "  and  let's  have  the  story, 
and  let  it  be  about  Ma-Coul  and  the  salmon  and  his  thumb." 
"  Arrah,  Shorsha  !  I  can't.  Well,  to  oblige  you,  I'll  give  it  you. 
Well,  you  know  Ma-Coul  was  an  exposed  child,  and  came  float- 
ing over  the  salt  sea  in  a  chest  which  was  cast  ashore  at  Veintry 
Bay.  In  the  corner  of  that  bay  was  a  castle,  where  dwelt  a  giant 
and  his  wife,  very  respectable  and  dacent  people,  and  this  giant, 
taking  his  morning  walk  along  the  bay,  came  to  the  place  where 


280  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

the  child  had  been  cast  ashore  in  his  box.  Well,  the  giant  looked 
at  the  child,  and  being  filled  with  compassion  for  his  exposed  state, 
took  the  child  up  in  his  box,  and  carried  him  home  to  his  castle, 
where  he  and  his  wife,  being  dacent  respectable  people,  as  I  telled 
ye  before,  fostered  the  child  and  took  care  of  him,  till  he  became 
old  enough  to  go  out  to  service  and  gain  his  livelihood,  when  they 
bound  him  out  apprentice  to  another  giant,  who  lived  in  a  castle 
up  the  country,  at  some  distance  from  the  bay. 

"  This  giant,  whose  name  was  Darmod  David  Odeen,  was  not 
a  respectable  person  at  all,  but  a  big  ould  wagabone.  He  was 
twice  the  size  of  the  other  giant,  who,  though  bigger  than  any 
man,  was  not  a  big  giant ;  for,  as  there  are  great  and  small  men, 
so  there  are  great  and  small  giants — I  mean  some  are  small  when 
compared  with  the  others.  Well,  Finn  served  this  giant  a  con- 
siderable time,  doing  all  kinds  of  hard  and  unreasonable  service 
for  him,  and  receiving  all  kinds  of  hard  words,  and  many  a  hard 
knock  and  kick  to  boot — sorrow  befall  the  ould  wagabone  who 
could  thus  ill-treat  a  helpless  foundling.  It  chanced  that  one 
day  the  giant  caught  a  salmon,  near  a  salmon-leap  upon  his 
estate — for,  though  a  big  ould  blackguard,  he  was  a  person  of 
considerable  landed  property,  and  high  sheriff  for  the  county 
Cork.  Well,  the  giant  brings  home  the  salmon  by  the  gills,  and 
delivers  it  to  Finn,  telling  him  to  roast  it  for  the  giant's  dinner ; 
*  but  take  care,  ye  young  blackguard,'  he  added,  '  that  in  roasting 
it — and  I  expect  ye  to  roast  it  well — you  do  not  let  a  blister  come 
upon  its  nice  satin  skin,  for  if  ye  do,  I  will  cut  the  head  off  your 
shoulders '.  '  Well,'  thinks  Finn,  '  this  is  a  hard  task  ;  however, 
as  I  have  done  many  hard  tasks  for  him,  I  will  try  and  do  this 
too,  though  I  was  never  set  to  do  anything  yet  half  so  difficult.' 
So  he  prepared  his  fire,  and  put  his  gridiron  upon  it,  and  lays  the 
salmon  fairly  and  softly  upon  the  gridiron,  and  then  he  roasts  it, 
turning  it  from  one  side  to  the  other  just  in  the  nick  of  time, 
before  the  soft  satin  skin  could  be  blistered.  However,  on 
turning  it  over  the  eleventh  time — and  twelve  would  have  settled 
the  business — he  found  he  had  delayed  a  little  bit  of  time  too  long 
in  turning  it  over,  and  that  there  was  a  small,  tiny  blister  on  the 
soft  outer  skin.  Well,  Finn  was  in  a  mighty  panic,  remembering 
the  threats  of  the  ould  giant ;  however,  he  did  not  lose  heart,  but 
clapped  his  thumb  upon  the  blister  in  order  to  smooth  it  down. 
Now  the  salmon,  Shorsha,  was  nearly  done,  and  the  flesh 
thoroughly  hot,  so  Finn's  thumb  was  scalt,  and  he,  clapping  it  to  his 
mouth,  sucked  it,  in  order  to  draw  out  the  pain,  and  in  a  moment 
— hubbuboo ! — became  imbued  with  all  the  wisdom  of  the  world. 


1825.]  FINN  AND  SIGURD.  281 

Myself.     Stop,  Murtagh  !  stop  ! 

Murtagh.     All  the  witchcraft,  Shorsha. 

Myself.     How  wonderful ! 

Murtagh.  Was  it  not,  Shorsha?  The  salmon,  do  you  see, 
was  a  fairy  salmon. 

Myself.     What  a  strange  coincidence  ! 

Murtagh.     A  what,  Shorsha  ? 

Myself.  Why,  that  the  very  same  tale  should  be  told  of 
Finn-ma-Coul  which  is  related  of  Sigurd  Fafnisbane. 

"  What  thief  was  that,  Shorsha  ?  " 

"  Thief !  'Tis  true,  he  took  the  treasure  of  Fafnir.  Sigurd  was 
the  hero  of  the  North,  Murtagh,  even  as  Finn  is  the  great  hero  of 
Ireland.  He,  too,  according  to  one  account,  was  an  exposed 
child,  and  came  floating  in  a  casket  to  a  wild  shore,  where  he 
was  suckled  by  a  hind,  and  afterwards  found  and  fostered  by 
Mimir,  a  fairy  blacksmith ;  he,  too,  sucked  wisdom  from  a  burn. 
According  to  the  Edda,  he  burnt  his  finger  whilst  feeling  of  the 
heart  of  Fafnir,  which  he  was  roasting,  and  putting  it  into  his 
mouth  in  order  to  suck  out  the  pain,  became  imbued  with  all  the 
wisdom  of  the  world,  the  knowledge  of  the  language  of  birds,  and 
what  not.  I  have  heard  you  tell  the  tale  of  Finn  a  dozen  times 
in  the  blessed  days  of  old,  but  its  identity  with  the  tale  of  Sigurd 
never  occurred  to  me  till  now.  It  is  true,  when  I  knew  you  of 
old,  I  had  never  read  the  tale  of  Sigurd,  and  have  since  almost 
dismissed  matters  of  Ireland  from  my  mind ;  but  as  soon  as  you 
told  me  again  about  Finn's  burning  his  ringer,  the  coincidence 
struck  me.  I  say,  Murtagh,  the  Irish  owe  much  to  the  Danes  — •• — " 

"Devil  a  bit,  Shorsha,  do  they  owe  to  the  thaives,  except 
many  a  bloody  bating  and  plundering,  which  they  never  paid 
them  back.  Och,  Shorsha  !  you,  edicated  in  ould  Ireland,  to  say 
that  the  Irish  owes  anything  good  to  the  plundering  villains — the 
Siol  Loughlin" 

"  They  owe  them  half  their  traditions,  Murtagh,  and  amongst 
others,  Finn-ma-Coul  and  the  burnt  finger ;  and  if  ever  I  publish 
the  Loughlin  songs,  I'll  tell  the  world  so." 

"  But,  Shorsha,  the  world  will  never  believe  ye — to  say  nothing 
of  the  Irish  part  of  it." 

"  Then  the  world,  Murtagh — to  say  nothing  of  the  Irish  part 
of  it — will  be  a  fool,  even  as  I  have  often  thought  it ;  the  grand 
thing,  Murtagh,  is  to  be  able  to  believe  oneself,  and  respect  one- 
self. How  few  whom  the  world  believes  believe  and  respect 
themselves." 

"  Och,  Shorsha  !  shall  I  go  on  with  the  tale  of  Finn  ?  " 


282  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

"I'd  rather  you  should  not,  Murtagh,  I  know  all  about  it 
already." 

"Then  why  did  you  bother  me  to  tell  it  at  first,  Shorsha? 
Och,  it  was  doing  my  ownself  good,  and  making  me  forget  my 
own  sorrowful  state,  when  ye  interrupted  me  with  your  thaives 
of  Danes  !  Och,  Shorsha !  let  me  tell  you  how  Finn,  by  means 
of  sucking  his  thumb,  and  the  witchcraft  he  imbibed  from  it, 
contrived  to  pull  off  the  arm  of  the  ould  wagabone,  Darmod 
David  Odeen,  whilst  shaking  hands  with  him — for  Finn  could 
do  no  feat  of  strength  without  sucking  his  thumb,  Shorsha,  as 
Conan  the  Bald  told  the  son  of  Oisin  in  the  song  which  I  used 
to  sing  ye  in  Dungarvon  times  of  old;"  and  here  Murtagh 
repeated  certain  Irish  words  to  the  following  effect: — 

O  little  the  foolish  words  I  heed 
O  Oisin's  son,  from  thy  lips  which  come ; 
No  strength  were  in  Finn  for  valorous  deed, 
Unless  to  the  gristle  he  suck'd  his  thumb. 

"  Enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast,  Murtagh,  I  am  no  longer  in 
the  cue  for  Finn.  I  would  rather  hear  your  own  history.  Now 
tell  us,  man,  all  that  has  happened  to  ye  since  Dungarvon  times 
of  old?" 

"  Och,  Shorsha,  it  would  be  merely  bringing  all  my  sorrows 
back  upon  me  !  " 

"  Well,  if  I  know  all  your  sorrows,  perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to 
find  a  help  for  them.  I  owe  you  much,  Murtagh  ;  you  taught  me 
Irish,  and  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  help  you." 

"  Why,  then,  Shorsha,  I'll  tell  ye  my  history.     Here  goes  !  " 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

"WELL,  Shorsha,  about  a  year  and  a  half  after  you  left  us — and 
a  sorrowful  hour  for  us  it  was  when  ye  left  us,  losing,  as  we  did, 
your  funny  stories  of  your  snake,  and  the  battles  of  your  military 
— they  sent  me  to  Paris  and  Salamanca,  in  order  to  make  a  sag- 
gart  of  me." 

"Pray  excuse  me,"  said  I,  "for  interrupting  you,  but  what  kind 
of  place  is  Salamanca  ?  " 

"  Divil  a  bit  did  I  ever  see  of  it,  Shorsha  ! " 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  ye  were  sent  there  ?  Well,  what  kind 
of  place  is  Paris  ?  Not  that  I  care  much  about  Paris." 

"  Sorrow  a  bit  did  I  ever  see  of  either  of  them,  Shorsha,  for  no 
one  sent  me  to  either.  When  we  says  at  home  a  person  is  going 
to  Paris  and  Salamanca,  it  manes  that  he  is  going  abroad  to  study 
to  be  a  saggart,  whether  he  goes  to  them  places  or  not.  No,  I 
never  saw  either — bad  luck  to  them — I  was  shipped  away  from 
Cork  up  the  straits  to  a  place  called  Leghorn,  from  which  I  was 

sent  to to  a  religious  house,  where  I  was  to  be  instructed  in 

saggarting  till  they  had  made  me  fit  to  cut  a  dacent  figure  in 
Ireland.  We  had  a  long  and  tedious  voyage,  Shorsha ;  not  so 
tedious,  however,  as  it  would  have  been  had  I  been  fool  enough 
to  lave  your  pack  of  cards  behind  me,  as  the  thaif,  my  brother 
Denis,  wanted  to  persuade  me  to  do,  in  order  that  he  might 
play  with  them  himself.  With  the  cards  I  managed  to  have 
many  a  nice  game  with  the  sailors,  winning  from  them  ha'pennies 
and  sixpences  until  the  captain  said  that  I  was  ruining  his  men, 
and  keeping  them  from  their  duty;  and  being  a  heretic  and  a 
Dutchman,  swore  that  unless  I  gave  over  he  would  tie  me  up  to 
the  mast  and  give  me  a  round  dozen.  This  threat  obliged  me  to 
be  more  on  my  guard,  though  I  occasionally  contrived  to  get  a 
game  at  night,  and  to  win  sixpennies  and  ha'pennies. 

"  We  reached  Leghorn  at  last,  and  glad  I  was  to  leave  the  ship 
and  the  master,  who  gave  me  a  kick  as  I  was  getting  over  the  side, 
bad  luck  to  the  dirty  heretic  for  kicking  a  son  of  the  Church,  for 
I  have  always  been  a  true  son  of  the  Church,  Shorsha,  and  never 
quarrelled  with  it  unless  it  interfered  with  me  in  my  playing  at 

(283) 


284  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

cards.  I  left  Leghorn  with  certain  muleteers,  with  whom  I  played 
at  cards  at  the  baiting-houses,  and  who  speedily  won  from  me  all 
the  ha'pennies  and  sixpences  I  had  won  from  the  sailors.  I  got 
my  money's  worth,  however,  for  I  learnt  from  the  muleteers  all 
kind  of  quaint  tricks  upon  the  cards,  which  I  knew  nothing  of 
before;  so  I  did  not  grudge  them  what  they  chated  me  of, 
and  when  we  parted  we  did  so  in  kindness  on  both  sides.  On 

getting  to I  was  received  into  the  religious  house  for  Irishes. 

It  was  the  Irish  house,  Shorsha,  into  which  I  was  taken,  for  I  do 
not  wish  ye  to  suppose  that  I  was  in  the  English  religious  house 
which  there  is  in  that  city,  in  which  a  purty  set  are  edicated,  and 
in  which  purty  doings  are  going  on  if  all  tales  be  true. 

"In  this  Irish  house  I  commenced  my  studies,  learning  to 
sing  and  to  read  the  Latin  prayers  of  the  Church.  'Faith,  Shor- 
sha, many's  the  sorrowful  day  I  passed  in  that  house  learning  the 
prayers  and  litanies,  being  half-starved,  with  no  earthly  diversion 
at  all,  at  all,  until  I  took  the  cards  out  of  my  chest  and  began 
instructing  in  card-playing  the  chum  which  I  had  with  me  in  the 
cell ;  then  I  had  plenty  of  diversion  along  with  him  during  the 
times  when  I  was  not  engaged  in  singing,  and  chanting,  and 
saying  the  prayers  of  the  Church  ;  there  was,  however,  some  draw- 
back in  playing  with  my  chum,  for  though  he  was  very  clever  in 
learning,  divil  a  sixpence  had  he  to  play  with,  in  which  respect  he 
was  like  myself,  the  master  who  taught  him,  who  had  lost  all  my 
money  to  the  muleteers  who  taught  me  the  tricks  upon  the  cards  ; 
by  degrees,  however,  it  began  to  be  noised  about  the  religious 
house  that  Murtagh  from  Hibrodary,*  had  a  pack  of  cards  with 
which  he  played  with  his  chum  in  the  cell ;  whereupon  other 
scholars  of  the  religious  house  came  to  me,  some  to  be  taught 
and  others  to  play,  so  with  some  I  played,  and  others  I  taught, 
but  neither  to  those  who  could  play,  or  to  those  who  could  not, 
did  I  teach  the  elegant  tricks  which  I  learnt  from  the  muleteers. 
Well,  the  scholars  came  to  me  for  the  sake  of  the  cards,  and  the 
porter  and  the  cook  of  the  religious  house,  who  could  both  play 
very  well,  came  also ;  at  last  I  became  tired  of  playing  for  nothing, 
so  I  borrowed  a  few  bits  of  silver  from  the  cook,  and  played 
against  the  porter,  and  by  means  of  my  tricks  I  won  money  from 
the  porter  and  then  I  paid  the  cook  the  bits  of  silver  which  I 
had  borrowed  of  him,  and  played  with  him,  and  won  a  little  of 
his  money,  which  I  let  him  win  back  again,  as  I  had  lived  long 
enough  in  a  religious  house  to  know  that  it  is  dangerous  to  take 

*  Tipperary. 


1825.]  MURTAGWS  TRAVELS.  285 

money  from  the  cook.  In  a  little  time,  Shorsha,  there  was 
scarcely  anything  going  on  in  the  house  but  card-playing;  the 
almoner  played  with  me,  and  so  did  the  sub-rector,  and  I  won 
money  from  both ;  not  too  much,  however,  lest  they  should  tell 
the  rector,  who  had  the  character  of  a  very  austere  man  and  of 
being  a  bit  of  a  saint;  however,  the  thief  of  a  porter,  whose 
money  I  had  won,  informed  the  rector  of  what  was  going  on, 
and  one  day  the  rector  sent  for  me  into  his  private  apartment, 
and  gave  me  so  long  and  pious  a  lecture  upon  the  heinous  sin  of 
card-playing,  that  I  thought  I  should  sink  into  the  ground ;  after 
about  half  an  hour's  inveighing  against  card-playing,  he  began  to 
soften  his  tone,  and  with  a  long  sigh  told  me  that  at  one  time  of 
his  life  he  had  been  a  young  man  himself,  and  had  occasionally 
used  the  cards ;  he  then  began  to  ask  me  some  questions  about 
card-playing,  which  questions  I  afterwards  found  were  to  pump 
from  me  what  I  knew  about  the  science.  After  a  time  he  asked  me 
whether  I  had  got  my  cards  with  me,  and  on  my  telling  him  I 
had,  he  expressed  a  wish  to  see  them,  whereupon  I  took  the  pack 
out  of  my  pocket,  and  showed  it  to  him ;  he  looked  at  it  very 
attentively,  and  at  last,  giving  another  deep  sigh,  he  said  :  that 
though  he  was  nearly  weaned  from  the  vanities  of  the  world,  he 
had  still  an  inclination  to  see  whether  he  had  entirely  lost  the 
little  skill  which  at  one  time  he  possessed.  When  I  heard  him 
speak  in  this  manner,  I  told  him  that  if  his  reverence  was  inclined 
for  a  game  of  cards,  I  should  be  very  happy  to  play  one  with  him ; 
scarcely  had  I  uttered  these  words  than  he  gave  a  third  sigh,  and 
looked  so  very  much  like  a  saint  that  I  was  afraid  he  was  going 
to  excommunicate  me.  Nothing  of  the  kind,  however,  for 
presently  he  gets  up  and  locks  the  door,  then  sitting  down  at 
the  table,  he  motioned  me  to  do  the  same,  which  I  did,  and  in 
five  minutes  there  we  were  playing  at  cards,  his  reverence  and 
myself. 

"  I  soon  found  that  his  reverence  knew  quite  as  much  about 
card-playing  as  I  did.  Divil  a  trick  was  there  connected  with 
cards  that  his  reverence  did  not  seem  awake  to.  As,  however, 
we  were  not  playing  for  money,  this  circumstance  did  not  give 
me  much  uneasiness ;  so  we  played  game  after  game  for  two 
hours,  when  his  reverence,  having  business,  told  me  I  might  go, 
so  I  took  up  my  cards,  made  my  obedience,  and  left  him.  The 
next  day  I  had  other  games  with  him,  and  so  on  for  a  very  long 
time,  still  playing  for  nothing.  At  last  his  reverence  grew  tired 
of  playing  for  nothing,  and  proposed  that  we  should  play  for 
money.  Now,  I  had  no  desire  to  play  with  his  reverence  for 


a86  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825- 

money,  as  I  knew  that  doing  so  would  bring  on  a  quarrel.  As 
long  as  we  were  playing  for  nothing,  I  could  afford  to  let  his 
reverence  use  what  tricks  he  pleased  ;  but  if  we  played  for  money, 
I  couldn't  do  so.  If  he  played  his  tricks,  I  must  play  mine,  and 
use  every  advantage  to  save  my  money;  and  there  was  one  I 
possessed  which  his  reverence  did  not.  The  cards  being  my 
own,  I  had  put  some  delicate  little  marks  on  the  trump  cards, 
just  at  the  edges,  so  that  when  I  daylt,  by  means  of  a  little 
sleight  of  hand,  I  could  dale  myself  any  trump  card  I  pleased. 
But  I  wished,  as  I  said  before,  to  have  no  dealings  for  money 
with  his  reverence,  knowing  that  he  was  master  in  the  house, 
and  that  he  could  lead  me  a  dog  of  a  life,  if  I  offended  him,  either 
by  winning  his  money,  or  not  letting  him  win  mine.  So  I  told 
him  I  had  no  money  to  play  with,  but  the  ould  thief  knew  better ; 
he  knew  that  I  was  every  day  winning  money  from  the  scholars, 
and  the  sub-rector,  and  the  other  people  of  the  house,  and  the  ould 
thaif  had  determined  to  let  me  go  on  in  that  way  winning  money, 
and  then  by  means  of  his  tricks,  which  he  thought  I  dare  not 
resent,  to  win  from  me  all  my  earnings — in  a  word,  Shorsha,  to  let 
me  fill  myself  like  a  sponge,  and  then  squeeze  me  for  his  own 
advantage.  So  he  made  me  play  with  him,  and  in  less  than  three 
days  came  on  the  quarrel ;  his  reverence  chated  me,  and  I  chated 
his  reverence ;  the  ould  thaif  knew  every  trick  that  I  knew,  and 
one  or  two  more ;  but  in  daling  out  the  cards  I  nicked  his  reverence ; 
scarcely  a  trump  did  I  ever  give  him,  Shorsha,  and  won  his  money 
purty  freely.  Och,  it  was  a  purty  quarrel !  All  the  delicate 
names  in  the  Newgate  Calendar,  if  ye  ever  heard  of  such  a  book ; 
all  the  hang-dog  names  in  the  Newgate  histories,  and  the  lives 
of  Irish  rogues,  did  we  call  each  other — his  reverence  and  I ! 
Suddenly,  however,  putting  out  his  hand,  he  seized  the  cards, 
saying,  '  I  will  examine  these  cards,  ye  chating  scoundrel !  for  I 
believe  there  are  dirty  marks  on  them,  which  ye  have  made  in 
order  to  know  the  winning  cards.'  *  Give  me  back  my  pack,'  said 
I,  '  or  manam  on  Dioul  if  I  be  not  the  death  of  ye  ! '  His  rever- 
ence, however,  clapped  the  cards  into  his  pocket,  and  made  the 
best  of  his  way  to  the  door,  I  hanging  upon  him.  He  was  a  gross, 
fat  man,  but,  like  most  fat  men,  deadly  strong,  so  he  forced  his 
way  to  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  flung  himself  out,  with  me  still 
holding  on  him  like  a  terrier  dog  on  a  big  fat  pig;  then  he 
shouts  for  help,  and  in  a  little  time  I  was  secured  and  thrust  into 
a  lock-up  room,  where  I  was  left  to  myself.  Here  was  a  purty 
alteration.  Yesterday  I  was  the  idol  of  the  religious  house, 
thought  more  on  than  his  reverence,  every  one  paying  me  court 


1825.]  DISTRACTION.  287 

and  wurtship,  and  wanting  to  play  cards  with  me,  and  to  learn  my 
tricks,  and  fed,  moreover,  on  the  tidbits  of  the  table ;  and  to-day 
I  was  in  a  cell,  nobody  coming  to  look  at  me  but  the  blackguard 
porter  who  had  charge  of  me,  my  cards  taken  from  me,  and  with 
nothing  but  bread  and  water  to  live  upon.  Time  passed  dreary 
enough  for  a  month,  at  the  end  of  which  time  his  reverence  came 
to  me,  leaving  the  porter  just  outside  the  door  in  order  to  come 
to  his  help  should  I  be  violent ;  and  then  he  read  me  a  very  purty 
lecture  on  my  conduct,  saying  I  had  turned  the  religious  house 
topsy-turvy,  and  corrupted  the  scholars,  and  that  I  was  the  chate 
of  the  world,  for  that  on  inspecting  the  pack  he  had  discovered 
the  dirty  marks  which  I  had  made  upon  the  trump  cards  for  to 
know  them  by.  He  said  a  good  dale  more  to  me,  which  is  not 
worth  relating,  and  ended  by  telling  me  that  he  intended  to  let  me 
out  of  confinement  next  day,  but  that  if  ever  I  misconducted  my- 
self any  more,  he  would  clap  me  in  again  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 
I  had  a  good  mind  to  call  him  an  ould  thaif,  but  the  hope  of 
getting  out  made  me  hold  my  tongue,  and  the  next  day  I  was  let 
out;  and  need  enough  I  had  to  be  let  out,  for  what  with  being 
alone,  and  living  on  the  bread  and  water,  I  was  becoming  frighted, 
or,  as  the  doctors  call  it,  narvous.  But  when  I  was  out — oh,  what 
a  change  I  found  in  the  religious  house  ;  no  card-playing,  for  it  had 
been  forbidden  to  the  scholars,  and  there  was  now  nothing  going 
on  but  reading  and  singing;  divil  a  merry  visage  to  be  seen,  but 
plenty  of  prim  airs  and  graces ;  but  the  case  of  the  scholars,  though 
bad  enough,  was  not  half  so  bad  as  mine,  for  they  could  speak  to 
each  other,  whereas  I  could  not  have  a  word  of  conversation,  for 
the  ould  thaif  of  a  rector  had  ordered  them  to  send  me  to 
1  Coventry/  telling  them  that  I  was  a  gambling  chate,  with  morals 
bad  enough  to  corrupt  a  horse  regiment ;  and  whereas  they  were 
allowed  to  divert  themselves  with  going  out,  I  was  kept  reading 
and  singing  from  morn  till  night.  The  only  soul  who  was  willing 
to  exchange  a  word  with  me  was  the  cook,  and  sometimes  he  and 
I  had  a  little  bit  of  discourse  in  a  corner,  and  we  condoled  with 
each  other,  for  he  liked  the  change  in  the  religious  house  almost 
as  little  as  myself;  but  he  told  me  that,  for  all  the  change  below 
stairs,  there  was  still  card-playing  going  on  above,  for  that  the  ould 
thaif  of  a  rector,  and  the  sub-rector,  and  the  almoner  played  at 
cards  together,  and  that  the  rector  won  money  from  the  others — 
the  almoner  had  told  him  so — and,  moreover,  that  the  rector  was 
the  thaif  of  the  world,  had  been  a  gambler  in  his  youth,  and  had 
once  been  kicked  out  of  a  club-house  at  Dublin  for  chating  at 
cards,  and  after  that  circumstance  had  apparently  reformed  and 


288  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

lived  dacently  till  the  time  when  I  came  to  the  religious  house 
with  my  pack,  but  that  the  sight  of  that  had  brought  him  back  to 
his  ould  gambling.  He  told  the  cook,  moreover,  that  the  rector 
frequently  went  out  at  night  to  the  houses  of  the  great  clergy  and 
chated  at  cards. 

"  In  this  melancholy  state,  with  respect  to  myself,  things  con- 
tinued a  long  time,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  report  that  his 
Holiness  the  Pope  intended  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  religious  house  in 
order  to  examine  into  its  state  of  discipline.  When  I  heard  this 
I  was  glad,  for  I  determined,  after  the  Pope  had  done  what  he  had 
come  to  do,  to  fall  upon  my  knees  before  him,  and  make  a  regu- 
lar complaint  of  the  treatment  I  had  received,  to  tell  him  of  the 
chating  at  cards  of  the  rector,  and  to  beg  him  to  make  the  ould 
thaif  give  me  back  my  pack  again.  So  the  day  of  the  visit  came, 
and  his  Holiness  made  his  appearance  with  his  attendants,  and, 
having  looked  over  the  religious  house,  he  went  into  the  rector's 
room  with  the  rector,  the  sub-rector,  and  the  almoner.  I  intended 
to  have  waited  until  his  Holiness  came  out,  but  finding  he  stayed 
a  long  time  I  thought  I  would  e'en  go  into  him,  so  I  went  up  to 
the  door  without  anybody  observing  me — his  attendants  being 
walking  about  the  corridor — and  opening  it  I  slipped  in,  and  there 
what  do  you  think  I  saw  ?  Why,  his  Holiness  the  Pope,  and  his 
reverence  the  rector,  and  the  sub-rector,  and  the  almoner  seated  at 
cards ;  and  the  ould  thaif  of  a  rector  was  dealing  out  the  cards 
which  ye  had  given  me,  Shorsha,  to  his  Holiness  the  Pope,  the 
sub-rector,  the  almoner,  and  himself." 

In  this  part  of  his  history  I  interrupted  Murtagh,  saying  that  I 
was  afraid  he  was  telling  untruths,  and  that  it  was  highly  improbable 
that  the  Pope  would  leave  the  Vatican  to  play  cards  with  Irish  at 
their  religious  house,  and  that  I  was  sure,  if  on  his,  Murtagh's 
authority,  I  were  to  tell  the  world  so,  the  world  would  never 
believe  it. 

"  Then  the  world,  Shorsha,  would  be  a  fool,  even  as  you  were 
just  now  saying  you  had  frequently  believed  it  to  be ;  the  grand 
thing,  Shorsha,  is  to  be  able  to  believe  oneself;  if  ye  can  do  that, 
it  matters  very  little  whether  the  world  believes  ye  or  no.  But  a 
purty  thing  for  you  and  the  world  to  stickle  at  the  Pope's  playing 
at  cards  at  a  religious  house  of  Irish ;  och  !  if  I  were  to  tell  you 
and  the  world  what  the  Pope  has  been  sometimes  at,  at  the  religious 
house  of  English  thaives,  I  would  excuse  you  and  the  world  for 
turning  up  your  eyes.  However,  I  wish  to  say  nothing  against  the 
Pope.  I  am  a  son  of  the  Church,  and  if  the  Pope  don't  interfere 
with  my  cards  divil  a  bit  will  I  have  to  say  against  him  ;  but  I  saw 


18250  "THE  POPE  DID  NOT "  289 

the  Pope  playing,  or  about  to  play,  with  the  pack  which  had  been 

taken  from  me,  and  when  I  told  the  Pope,  the  Pope  did  not 

ye  had  better  let  me  go  on  with  my  history,  Shorsha ;  whether  you 
or  the  world  belave  it  or  not,  I  am  sure  it  is  quite  as  true  as  your 
tale  of  the  snake,  or  saying  that  Finn  got  his  burnt  finger  from 
the  thaives  of  Loughlin ;  and  whatever  you  may  say,  I  am  sure 
the  world  will  think  so  too." 

I  apologised  to  Murtagh  for  interrupting  him,  and  telling  him 
that  his  history,  whether  true  or  not,  was  infinitely  diverting, 
begged  him  to  continue  it. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


"  I  WAS  telling  ye,  Shorsha,  when  ye  interrupted  me,  that  I  found 
the  Pope,  the  rector,  the  sub-rector  and  the  almoner  seated  at  the 
table,  the  rector  with  my  pack  of  cards  in  his  hands,  about  to  dale 
out  to  the  Pope  and  the  rest,  not  forgetting  himself,  for  whom  he 
intended  all  the  trump-cards,  no  doubt.  No  sooner  did  they 
perceive  me  than  they  seemed  taken  all  aback ;  but  the  rector, 
suddenly  starting  up  with  the  cards  in  his  hand,  asked  me  what 
I  did  there,  threatening  to  have  me  well  disciplined  if  I  did  not 
go  about  my  business  ;  '  I  am  come  for  my  pack,'  said  I,  '  ye  ould 
thaif,  and  to  tell  his  Holiness  how  I  have  been  treated  by  ye ' ; 
then  going  down  on  my  knees  before  his  Holiness,  I  said,  '  Arrah, 
now,  your  Holiness !  will  ye  not  see  justice  done  to  a  poor  boy 
who  has  been  sadly  misused  ?  The  pack  of  cards  which  that  ould 
ruffian  has  in  his  hand  are  my  cards,  which  he  has  taken  from  me, 
in  order  to  chate  with.  Arrah!  don't  play  with  him,  your  Holiness, 
for  he'll  only  chate  ye — there  are  dirty  marks  upon  the  cards  which 
bear  the  trumps,  put  there  in  order  to  know  them  by ;  and  the 
ould  thaif  in  dealing  out  will  give  himself  all  the  good  cards,  and 
chate  ye  of  the  last  farthing  in  your  pocket ;  so  let  them  be  taken 
from  him,  your  Holiness  and  given  back  to  me ;  and  order  him 
to  lave  the  room,  and  then,  if  your  Holiness  be  for  an  honest 
game,  don't  think  I  am  the  boy  to  baulk  ye.  I'll  take  the  ould 
ruffian's  place,  and  play  with  ye  till  evening,  and  all  night  besides, 
and  divil  an  advantage  will  I  take  of  the  dirty  marks,  though  I  know 
them  all,  having  placed  them  on  the  cards  myself.'  I  was  going 
on  in  this  way  when  the  ould  thaif  of  a  rector,  flinging  down  the 
cards,  made  at  me  as  if  to  kick  me  out  of  the  room,  whereupon 
I  started  up  and  said :  '  If  ye  are  for  kicking,  sure  two  can  play 
at  that ' ;  and  then  I  kicked  at  his  reverence,  and  his  reverence  at 
me,  and  there  was  a  regular  scrimmage  between  us,  which  frightened 
the  Pope,  who,  getting  up,  said  some  words  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand, but  which  the  cook  afterwards  told  me  were,  '  English 
extravagance,  and  this  is  the  second  edition ' ;  for  it  seems  that, 
a  little  time  before,  his  Holiness  had  been  frightened  in  St.  Peter's 
Church  by  the  servant  of  an  English  family,  which  those  thaives 

(290) 


1825.]  "GIVE  ME  BACK  MY  PACK!"  291 

of  the  English  religious  house  had  been  endeavouring  to  bring 
over  to  the  Catholic  faith,  and  who  didn't  approve  of  their  being 
converted.  Och  !  his  Holiness  did  us  all  sore  injustice  to  call  us 
English,  and  to  confound  our  house  with  the  other ;  for  however 
dirty  our  house  might  be,  our  house  was  a  clane  house  compared 
with  the  English  house,  and  we  honest  people  compared  with  those 
English  thaives.  Well,  his  Holiness  was  frighted,  and  the 
almoner  ran  out,  and  brought  in  his  Holiness's  attendants,  and  they 
laid  hold  of  me,  but  I  struggled  hard,  and  said  :  '  I  will  not  go 
without  my  pack ;  arrah,  your  Holiness !  make  them  give  me  back 
my  pack,  which  Shorsha  gave  me  in  Dungarvon  times  of  old ' ; 
but  my  struggles  were  of  no  use.  I  was  pulled  away  and  put  in 
the  ould  dungeon,  and  his  Holiness  went  away  sore  frighted, 
crossing  himself  much,  and  never  returned  again. 

"  In  the  ould  dungeon  I  was  fastened  to  the  wall  by  a  chain, 
and  there  I  was  disciplined  once  every  other  day  for  the  first 
three  weeks,  and  then  I  was  left  to  myself,  and  my  chain,  and 
hunger;  and  there  I  sat  in  the  dungeon,  sometimes  screeching, 
sometimes  holloing,  for  I  soon  became  frighted,  having  nothing 
in  the  cell  to  divert  me.  At  last  the  cook  found  his  way  to  me 
by  stealth,  and  comforted  me  a  little,  bringing  me  tidbits  out  of  the 
kitchen  ;  and  he  visited  me  again  and  again — not  often,  however, 
for  he  dare  only  come  when  he  could  steal  away  the  key  from 
the  custody  of  the  thaif  of  a  porter.  I  was  three  years  in  the 
dungeon,  and  should  have  gone  mad  but  for  the  cook,  and  his 
words  of  comfort,  and  his  tidbits,  and  nice  books  which  he  brought 
me  out  of  the  library,  which  were  the  Calendars  of  Newgate,  and 
the  Lives  of  Irish  Rogues  and  Raparees,  the  only  English  books 
in  the  library.  However,  at  the  end  of  three  years,  the  ould  thaif 
of  a  rector,  wishing  to  look  at  them  books,  missed  them  from  the 
library,  and  made  a  perquisition  about  them,  and  the  thaif  of  a 
porter  said  that  he  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  had  them,  saying  that 
he  had  once  seen  me  reading;  and  then  the  rector  came  with 
others  to  my  cell,  and  took  my  books  from  me,  from  under  my 
straw,  and  asked  me  how  I  came  by  them ;  and  on  my  refusal 
to  tell,  they  disciplined  me  again  till  the  blood  ran  down  my  back  ; 
and  making  more  perquisition  they  at  last  accused  the  cook  of 
having  carried  the  books  to  me,  and  the  cook  not  denying,  he 
was  given  warning  to  leave  next  day,  but  he  left  that  night,  and  took 
me  away  with  him,  for  he  stole  the  key,  and  came  to  me  and  cut 
my  chain  through,  and  then  he  and  I  escaped  from  the  religious 
house  through  a  window — the  cook  with  a  bundle,  containing  what 
things  he  had.  No  sooner  had  we  got  out  than  the  honest  cook 


292  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

gave  me  a  little  bit  of  money  and  a  loaf,  and  told  me  to  follow 
a  way  which  he  pointed  out,  which  he  said  would  lead  to  the 
sea ;  and  then,  having  embraced  me  after  the  Italian  way,  he  left 
me,  and  I  never  saw  him  again.  So  I  followed  the  way  which 
the  cook  pointed  out,  and  in  two  days  reached  a  seaport  called 
Chiviter  Vik,  terribly  foot  foundered,  and  there  I  met  a  sailor  who 
spoke  Irish,  and  who  belonged  to  a  vessel  just  ready  to  sail  for 
France;  and  the  sailor  took  me  on  board  his  vessel,  and  said 
I  was  his  brother,  and  the  captain  gave  me  a  passage  to  a  place 
in  France  called  Marseilles  ;  and  when  I  got  there,  the  captain  and 
sailor  got  a  little  money  for  me  and  a  passport,  and  I  travelled 
across  the  country  towards  a  place  they  directed  me  to  called 
Bayonne,  from  which  they  said  I  might,  perhaps,  get  to  Ireland. 
Coming,  however,  to  a  place  called  Pau,  all  my  money  being  gone, 
I  enlisted  into  a  regiment  called  the  Army  of  the  Faith,  which 
was  going  into  Spain,  for  the  King  of  Spain  had  been  dethroned 
and  imprisoned  by  his  own  subjects,  as  perhaps  you  may  have 
heard ;  and  the  King  of  France,  who  was  his  cousin,  was  sending 
an  army  to  help  him,  under  the  command  of  his  own  son,  whom 
the  English  called  Prince  Hilt,  because  when  he  was  told  that  he 
was  appointed  to  the  command,  he  clapped  his  hand  on  the  hilt 
of  his  sword.  So  I  enlisted  into  the  regiment  of  the  Faith,  which 
was  made  up  of  Spaniards,  many  of  them  priests  who  had  ran  out 
of  Spain,  and  broken  Germans,  and  foot-foundered  Irish  like 
myself.  It  was  said  to  be  a  blackguard  regiment,  that  same  regi- 
ment of  the  Faith ;  but,  'faith,  I  saw  nothing  blackguardly  going 
on  in  it,  for  you  would  hardly  reckon  card-playing,  and  dominoes, 
and  pitch  and  toss  blackguardly,  and  I  saw  nothing  else  going  on 
in  it.  There  was  one  thing  in  it  which  I  disliked — the  priests 
drawing  their  Spanish  knives  occasionally,  when  they  lost  their 
money.  After  we  had  been  some  time  at  Pau,  the  Army  of  the 
Faith  was  sent  across  the  mountains  into  Spain,  as  the  vanguard 
of  the  French  ;  and  no  sooner  did  the  Spaniards  see  the  Faith  than 
they  made  a  dash  at  it,  and  the  Faith  ran  away,  myself  along  with 
it,  and  got  behind  the  French  army,  which  told  it  to  keep  there,  and 
the  Faith  did  so,  and  followed  the  French  army,  which  soon  scat- 
tered the  Spaniards,  and  in  the  end  placed  the  king  on  his  throne 
again.  When  the  war  was  over  the  Faith  was  disbanded  ;  some 
of  the  foreigners,  however,  amongst  whom  I  was  one,  were  put 
into  a  Guard  regiment,  and  there  I  continued  for  more  than  a  year. 
"  One  day,  being  at  a  place  called  the  Escurial,  I  took  stock, 
as  the  tradesmen  say,  and  found  I  possessed  the  sum  of  eighty 
dollars  won  dy  playing  at  cards,  for  though  I  could  not  play  so 


1825.]  VOYAGE  EN  ESPAGNE.  293 

well  with  the  foreign  cards  as  with  the  pack  ye  gave  me,  Shorsha, 
I  had  yet  contrived  to  win  money  from  the  priests  and  soldiers  of 
the  Faith.  Finding  myself  possessed  of  such  a  capital  I  deter 
mined  to  leave  the  service,  and  to  make  the  best  of  my  way  to 
Ireland ;  so  I  deserted,  but  coming  in  an  evil  hour  to  a  place  they 
calls  Torre  Lodones,  I  found  the  priest  playing  at  cards  with  his 
parishioners.  The  sight  of  the  cards  made  me  stop,  and  then, 
fool  like,  notwithstanding  the  treasure  I  had  about  me,  I  must 
wish  to  play,  so  not  being  able  to  speak  their  language,  I  made 
signs  to  them  to  let  me  play,  and  the  priest  and  his  thaives  con- 
sented willingly ;  so  I  sat  down  to  cards  with  the  priest  and  two 
of  his  parishioners,  and  in  a  little  time  had  won  plenty  of  their 
money,  but  I  had  better  never  have  done  any  such  a  thing,  for 
suddenly  the  priest  and  all  his  parishioners  set  upon  me  and  bate 
me,  and  took  from  me  all  I  had,  and  cast  me  out  of  the  village 
more  dead  than  alive.  Och  !  it's  a  bad  village  that,  and  if  I  had 
known  what  it  was  I  would  have  avoided  it,  or  run  straight 
through  it,  though  I  saw  all  the  card-playing  in  the  world  going  on 
in  it.  There  is  a  proverb  about  it,  as  I  was  afterwards  told,  old 
as  the  time  of  the  Moors,  which  holds  good  to  the  present  day — 
it  is,  that  in  Torre  Lodones  there  are  twenty-four  housekeepers, 
and  twenty-five  thieves,  maning  that  all  the  people  are  thaives, 
and  the  clergyman  to  boot,  who  is  not  reckoned  a  housekeeper ; 
and  troth  I  found  the  clergyman  the  greatest  thaif  of  the  lot. 
After  being  cast  out  of  that  village  I  travelled  for  nearly  a  month, 
subsisting  by  begging  tolerably  well,  for  though  most  of  the 
Spanish  are  thaives,  they  are  rather  charitable ;  but  though 
charitable  thaives  they  do  not  like  their  own  being  taken  from 
them  without  leave  being  asked,  as  I  found  to  my  cost ;  for  on 
my  entering  a  garden  near  Seville,  without  leave,  to  take  an 
orange,  the  labourer  came  running  up  and  struck  me  to  the 
ground  with  a  hatchet,  giving  me  a  big  wound  in  the  arm.  I 
fainted  with  loss  of  blood,  and  on  reviving  I  found  myself  in  a 
hospital  at  Seville,  to  which  the  labourer  and  the  people  of  the 
village  had  taken  me.  I  should  have  died  of  starvation  in  that 
hospital  had  not  some  English  people  heard  of  me  and  come  to 
see  me ;  they  tended  me  with  food  till  I  was  cured,  and  then  paid 
my  passage  on  board  a  ship  to  London,  to  which  place  the  ship 
carried  me. 

"  And  now  I  was  in  London  with  five  shillings  in  my  pocket — 
all  I  had  in  the  world — and  that  did  not  last  for  long ;  and  when 
it  was  gone  I  begged  in  the  streets,  but  I  did  not  get  much  by 
that,  except  a  month's  hard  labour  in  the  correction-house;  and 


2Q4  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825 

when  I  came  out  I  knew  not  what  to  do,  but  thought  I  would 
take  a  walk  in  the  country,  for  it  was  springtime,  and  the  weather 
was  fine,  so  I  took  a  walk  about  seven  miles  from  London,  and 
came  to  a  place  where  a  great  fair  was  being  held ;  and  there  I 
begged,  but  got  nothing  but  a  halfpenny,  and  was  thinking  of 
going  farther  when  I  saw  a  man  with  a  table,  like  that  of  mine, 
playing  with  thimbles,  as  you  saw  me.  I  looked  at  the  play,  and 
saw  him  win  money,  and  run  away,  and  hunted  by  constables 
more  than  once.  I  kept  following  the  man,  and  at  last  entered 
into  conversation  with  him ;  and  learning  from  him  that  he  was  in 
want  of  a  companion  to  help  him,  I  offered  to  help  him  if  he 
would  pay  me ;  he  looked  at  me  from  top  to  toe,  and  did  not 
wish  at  first  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me,  as  he  said  my 
appearance  was  against  me.  'Faith,  Shorsha,  he  had  better  have 
looked  at  home,  for  his  appearance  was  not  much  in  his  favour : 
he  looked  very  much  like  a  Jew,  Shorsha.  However,  he  at  last 
agreed  to  take  me  to  be  his  companion  or  bonnet  as  he  called  it ; 
and  I  was  to  keep  a  look-out,  and  let  him  know  when  constables 
were  coming,  and  to  spake  a  good  word  for  him  occasionally, 
whilst  he  was  chating  folks  with  his  thimbles  and  his  pea.  So  I 
became  his  bonnet,  and  assisted  him  in  the  fair,  and  in  many 
other  fairs  beside ;  but  I  did  not  like  my  occupation  much,  or 
rather  my  master,  who,  though  not  a  big  man,  was  a  big  thaif,  and 
an  unkind  one,  for  do  all  I  could  I  could  never  give  him  pleasure ; 
and  he  was  continually  calling  me  fool  and  bogtrotter,  and  twit- 
ting me  because  I  could  not  learn  his  thaives'  Latin,  and  discourse 
with  him  in  it,  and  comparing  me  with  another  acquaintance,  or 
bit  of  a  pal  of  his,  whom  he  said  he  had  parted  with  in  the  fair, 
and  of  whom  he  was  fond  of  saying  all  kinds  of  wonderful  things, 
amongst  others,  that  he  knew  the  grammar  of  all  tongues.  At 
last,  wearied  with  being  twitted  by  him  with  not  being  able  to 
learn  his  thaives'  Greek,  I  proposed  that  I  should  teach  him  Irish, 
that  we  should  spake  it  together  when  we  had  anything  to  say  in 
secret.  To  that  he  consented  willingly ;  but,  och  !  a  purty  hand 
he  made  with  Irish,  'faith,  not  much  better  than  did  I  with  his 
thaives'  Hebrew.  Then  my  turn  came,  and  I  twitted  him  nicely 
with  dulness,  and  compared  him  with  a  pal  that  I  had  in  ould 
Ireland,  in  Dungarvon  times  of  yore,  to  whom  I  teached  Irish, 
telling  him  that  he  was  the  broth  of  a  boy,  and  not  only  knew  the 
grammar  of  all  human  tongues,  but  the  dialects  of  the  snakes 
besides ;  in  fact,  I  tould  him  all  about  your  own  swate  self, 
Shorsha,  and  many  a  dispute  and  quarrel  had  we  together  about 
our  pals,  which  was  the  cleverest  fellow,  his  or  mine. 


1825.]  THIMBLE-ENGRO.  295 

"  Well,  after  having  been  wid  him  about  two  months,  I  quitted 
him  without  noise,  taking  away  one  of  his  tables,  and  some  peas 
and  thimbles ;  and  that  I  did  with  a  safe  conscience,  for  he  paid 
me  nothing,  and  was  not  over  free  with  the  meat  and  the  drink, 
though  I  must  say  of  him  that  he  was  a  clever  fellow,  and  perfect 
master  of  his  trade,  by  which  he  made  a  power  of  money,  and 
bating  his  not  being  able  to  learn  Irish,  and  a  certain  Jewish  lisp 
which  he  had,  a  great  master  of  his  tongue,  of  which  he  was  very 
proud  ;  so  much  so,  that  he  once  told  me  that  when  he  had  saved 
a  certain  sum  of  money  he  meant  to  leave  off  the  thimbling 
business,  and  enter  Parliament;  into  which,  he  said,  he  could  get 
at  any  time,  through  the  interest  of  a  friend  of  his,  a  Tory  Peer — 
my  Lord  Whitefeather,  with  whom,  he  said,  he  had  occasionally 
done  business.  With  the  table,  and  other  things  which  I  had 
taken,  I  commenced  trade  on  my  own  account,  having  contrived 
to  learn  a  few  of  his  tricks.  My  only  capital  was  the  change  for 
half  a  guinea,  which  he  had  once  let  fall,  and  which  I  picked  up, 
which  was  all  I  could  ever  get  from  him  :  for  it  was  impossible  to 
stale  any  money  from  him,  he  was  so  awake,  being  up  to  all  the 
tricks  of  thaives,  having  followed  the  diving  trade,  as  he  called  it, 
for  a  considerable  time.  My  wish  was  to  make  enough  by  my 
table  to  enable  me  to  return  with  credit  to  ould  Ireland,  where  I 
had  no  doubt  of  being  able  to  get  myself  ordained  as  priest ;  and, 
in  troth,  notwithstanding  I  was  a  beginner,  and  without  any  com- 
panion to  help  me,  I  did  tolerably  well,  getting  my  meat  and 
drink,  and  increasing  my  small  capital,  till  I  came  to  this  unlucky 
place  of  Horncastle,  where  I  was  utterly  ruined  by  the  thaif  in  the 
rider's  dress.  And  now,  Shorsha,  I  am  after  telling  you  my 
history ;  perhaps  you  will  now  be  telling  me  something  about 
yourself?" 

I  told  Murtagh  all  about  myself  that  I  deemed  necessary  to 
relate,  and  then  asked  him  what  he  intended  to  do ;  he  repeated 
that  he  was  utterly  ruined,  and  that  he  had  no  prospect  before 
him  but  starving,  or  making  away  with  himself.  I  inquired 
"  How  much  would  take  him  to  Ireland,  and  establish  him  there 
with  credit ".  "  Five  pounds,"  he  answered,  adding,  "  but  who 
in  the  world  would  be  fool  enough  to  lend  me  five  pounds,  unless 
it  be  yourself,  Shorsha,  who,  may  be,  have  not  got  it;  for  when 
you  told  me  about  yourself,  you  made  no  boast  of  the  state  of 
your  affairs."  "I  am  not  very  rich,"  I  replied,  "but  I  think  I 
can  accommodate  you  with  what  you  want.  I  consider  myself 
under  great  obligations  to  you,  Murtagh;  it  was  you  who  in- 
structed me  in  the  language  of  Oilein  nan  Naomha,  which  has 


2g6  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

been  the  foundation  of  all  my  acquisitions  in  philology;  with- 
out you,  I  should  not  be  what  I  am  —  Lavengro !  which 
signifies  a  philologist.  Here  is  the  money,  Murtagh/'  said  I, 
putting  my  hand  into  my  pocket,  and  taking  out  five  pounds, 
"much  good  may  it  do  you."  He  took  the  money,  stared  at 
it,  and  then  at  me — "  And  you  mane  to  give  me  this,  Shorsha?  " 
"It  is  no  longer  mine  to  give,"  said  I;  "it  is  yours."  "And 
you  give  it  to  me  for  the  gratitude  you  bear  me?"  "  Yes,"  said 
I,  "  and  for  Dungarvon  times  of  old."  "  Well,  Shorsha,"  said  he, 
"you  are  a  broth  of  a  boy,  and  I'll  take  your  benefaction — five 
pounds  !  och,  Jasus  ! "  He  then  put  the  money  in  his  pocket, 
and  springing  up,  waved  his  hat  three  times,  uttering  some  old 
Irish  cry ;  then,  sitting  down,  he  took  my  hand,  and  said  :  "  Sure, 
Shorsha,  I'll  be  going  thither ;  and  when  I  get  there,  it  is  turning 
over  another  leaf  I  will  be ;  I  have  learnt  a  thing  or  two  abroad ; 
I  will  become  a  priest ;  that's  the  trade,  Shorsha  !  and  I  will  cry 
out  for  repale ;  that's  the  cry,  Shorsha !  and  I'll  be  a  fool  no 
longer."  "And  what  will  you  do  with  your  table?"  said  I. 
"  'Faith,  I'll  be  taking  it  with  me,  Shorsha ;  and  when  I  gets 
to  Ireland,  I'll  get  it  mended,  and  I  will  keep  it  in  the  house 
which  I  shall  have ;  and  when  I  looks  upon  it,  I  will  be  thinking 
of  all  I  have  undergone."  "  You  had  better  leave  it  behind  you," 
said  I ;  "if  you  take  it  with  you,  you  will,  perhaps,  take  up  the 
thimble  trade  again  before  you  get  to  Ireland,  and  lose  the  money 
I  am  after  giving  you."  "  No  fear  of  that,  Shorsha  ;  never  will  I 
play  on  that  table  again,  Shorsha,  till  I  get  it  mended,  which  shall 
not  be  till  I  am  a  priest,  and  have  a  house  in  which  to  place  it." 
Murtagh  and  I  then  went  into  the  town,  where  we  had  some 
refreshment  together,  and  then  parted  on  our  several  ways.  I 
heard  nothing  of  him  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  when  a 
person  who  knew  him  well,  coming  from  Ireland,  and  staying  at 
my  humble  house,  told  me  a  great  deal  about  him.  He  reached 
Ireland  in  safety,  soon  reconciled  himself  with  his  Church,  and 
was  ordained  a  priest;  in  the  priestly  office  he  acquitted  himself 
in  a  way  very  satisfactory,  upon  the  whole,  to  his  superiors,  having, 
as  he  frequently  said,  learned  wisdom  abroad.  The  Popish 
Church  never  fails  to  turn  to  account  any  particular  gift  which  its 
servants  may  possess  ;  and  discovering  soon  that  Murtagh  was  en- 
dowed with  considerable  manual  dexterity — proof  of  which  he 
frequently  gave  at  cards,  and  at  a  singular  game  which  he 
occasionally  played  at  thimbles — it  selected  him  as  a  very  fit 
person  to  play  the  part  of  exorcist ;  and  accordingly  he  travelled 
through  a  great  part  of  Ireland,  casting  out  devils  from  people 


1825.]  MURTAGH  AS  PRIEST.  297 

possessed,  which  he  afterwards  exhibited,  sometimes  in  the  shape 
of  rabbits,  and  occasionally  birds  and  fishes.  There  is  a  holy 
island  in  a  lake  in  Ireland,  to  which  the  people  resort  at  a  par- 
ticular season  of  the  year.  Here  Murtagh  frequently  attended, 
and  it  was  here  that  he  performed  a  cure  which  will  cause  his 
name  long  to  be  remembered  in  Ireland,  delivering  a  possessed 
woman  of  two  demons,  which  he  brandished  aloft  in  his  hands, 
in  the  shape  of  two  large  eels,  and  subsequently  hurled  into  the 
lake,  amidst  the  shouts  of  an  enthusiastic  multitude.  Besides 
playing  the  part  of  an  exorcist,  he  acted  that  of  a  politician  with 
considerable  success  ;  he  attached  himself  to  the  party  of  the  sire 
of  agitation — "the  man  of  paunch,"  and  preached  and  hallooed 
for  repeal  with  the  loudest  and  best,  as  long  as  repeal  was  the  cry ; 
as  soon,  however,  as  the  Whigs  attained  the  helm  of  Government, 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  loaves  and  fishes — more  politely 
termed  the  patronage  of  Ireland — was  placed  at  the  disposition 
of  the  priesthood,  the  tone  of  Murtagh,  like  that  of  the  rest  of  his 
brother  saggarts,  was  considerably  softened ;  he  even  went  so  far 
as  to  declare  that  politics  were  not  altogether  consistent  with 
sacerdotal  duty ;  and  resuming  his  exorcisms,  which  he  had  for 
some  time  abandoned,  he  went  to  the  Isle  of  Holiness,  and  de- 
livered a  possessed  woman  of  six  demons  in  the  shape  of  white 
mice.  He,  however,  again  resumed  the  political  mantle  in  the 
year  1848,  during  the  short  period  of  the  rebellion  of  the  so-called 
Young  Irelanders.  The  priests,  though  they  apparently  sided 
with  this  party,  did  not  approve  of  it,  as  it  was  chiefly  formed  of 
ardent  young  men,  fond  of  what  they  termed  liberty,  and  by  no 
means  admirers  of  priestly  domination,  being  mostly  Protestants. 
Just  before  the  outbreak  of  this  rebellion,  it  was  determined 

between  the  priests  and   the  ,   that   this  party   should  be 

rendered  comparatively  innocuous  by  being  deprived  of  the  sinews 
of  war — in  other  words,  certain  sums  of  money  which  they  had 
raised  for  their  enterprise.  Murtagh  was  deemed  the  best  quali- 
fied person  in  Ireland  to  be  entrusted  with  the  delicate  office  of 
getting  their  money  from  them.  Having  received  his  instructions, 
he  invited  the  leaders  to  his  parsonage  amongst  the  mountains, 
under  pretence  of  deliberating  with  them  about  what  was  to  be 
done.  They  arrived  there  just  before  nightfall,  dressed  in  red, 
yellow  and  green,  the  colours  so  dear  to  enthusiastic  Irishmen  ; 
Murtagh  received  them  with  great  apparent  cordiality,  and  entered 
into  a  long  discourse  with  them,  promising  them  the  assistance  of 
himself  and  order,  and  received  from  them  a  profusion  of  thanks. 
After  a  time  Murtagh,  observing,  in  a  jocular  tone,  that  consulting 


298  THE  ROMANY  RYE.  [1825. 

was  dull  work,  proposed  a  game  of  cards,  and  the  leaders,  though 
somewhat  surprised,  assenting,  he  went  to  a  closet,  and  taking  out 
a  pack  of  cards,  laid  it  upon  the  table ;  it  was  a  strange  dirty  pack, 
and  exhibited  every  mark  of  having  seen  very  long  service.  On 
one  of  his  guests  making  some  remarks  on  the  "  ancientness  "  of 
its  appearance,  Murtagh  observed  that  there  was  a  very  wonderful 
history  attached  to  that  pack ;  it  had  been  presented  to  him,  he 
said,  by  a  young  gentleman,  a  disciple  of  his,  to  whom,  in  Dun- 
garvon  times  of  yore,  he  had  taught  the  Irish  language,  and  of 
whom  he  related  some  very  extraordinary  things ;  he  added  that 
he,  Murtagh,  had  taken  it  to -,  where  it  had  once  the  happi- 
ness of  being  in  the  hands  of  the  Holy  Father ;  by  a  great  misfor- 
tune, he  did  not  say  what,  he  had  lost  possession  of  it,  and  had 
returned  without  it,  but  had  some  time  since  recovered  it;  a 

nephew  of  his,  who  was   being  educated  at for  a  priest, 

having  found  it  in  a  nook  of  the  college,  and  sent  it  to  him. 

Murtagh  and  the  leaders  then  played  various  games  with  this 
pack,  more  especially  one  called  by  the  initiated  "  blind  hookey," 
the  result  being  that  at  the  end  of  about  two  hours  the  leaders 
found  they  had  lost  one-half  of  their  funds ;  they  now  looked 
serious,  and  talked  of  leaving  the  house,  but  Murtagh  begging 
them  to  stay  supper,  they  consented.  After  supper,  at  which  the 
guests  drank  rather  freely,  Murtagh  said  that,  as  he  had  not  the  least 
wish  to  win  their  money,  he  intended  to  give  them  their  revenge ; 
he  would  not  play  at  cards  with  them,  he  added,  but  at  a  funny 
game  of  thimbles,  at  which  they  would  be  sure  of  winning  back 
their  own ;  then  going  out,  he  brought  in  a  table,  tall  and  narrow, 
on  which  placing  certain  thimbles  and  a  pea,  he  proposed  that 
they  should  stake  whatever  they  pleased  on  the  almost  certainty 
of  finding  the  pea  under  the  thimbles.  The  leaders,  after  some 
hesitation,  consented,  and  were  at  first  eminently  successful,  win- 
ning back  the  greater  part  of  what  they  had  lost ;  after  some  time, 
however,  Fortune,  or  rather  Murtagh,  turned  against  them,  and 
then,  instead  of  leaving  off,  they  doubled  and  trebled  their  stakes, 
and  continued  doing  so  until  they  had  lost  nearly  the  whole  of 
their  funds.  Quite  furious,  they  now  swore  that  Murtagh  had 
cheated  them,  and  insisted  on  having  their  property  restored  to 
them.  Murtagh,  without  a  word  of  reply,  went  to  the  door,  and 
shouting  into  the  passage  something  in  Irish,  the  room  was  in- 
stantly filled  with  bogtrotters,  each  at  least  six  feet  high,  with  a 
stout  shillelah  in  his  hand.  Murtagh  then  turning  to  his  guests, 
asked  them  what  they  meant  by  insulting  an  anointed  priest ; 
telling  them  that  it  was  not  for  the  likes  of  them  to  avenge  the 


1825.]  THE  AVENGER  OF  IRELAND.  299 

wrongs  of  Ireland.  "  I  have  been  clane  mistaken  in  the  whole  of 
ye,"  said  he,  "  I  supposed  ye  Irish,  but  have  found,  to  my  sorrow, 
that  ye  are  nothing  of  the  kind ;  purty  fellows  to  pretend  to  be 
Irish,  when  there  is  not  a  word  of  Irish  on  the  tongue  of  any  of 
ye,  divil  a  ha'porth;  the  illigant  young  gentleman  to  whom  I 
taught  Irish,  in  Dungarvon  times  of  old,  though  not  born  in  Ire- 
land, has  more  Irish  in  him  than  any  ten  of  ye.  He  is  the  boy 
to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  Ireland,  if  ever  foreigner  is  to  do  it." 
Then  saying  something  to  the  bogtrotters,  they  instantly  cleared 
the  room  of  the  young  Irelanders,  who  retired  sadly  disconcerted ; 
nevertheless,  being  very  silly  young  fellows,  they  hoisted  the 
standard  of  rebellion  ;  few,  however,  joining  them,  partly  because 
they  had  no  money,  and  partly  because  the  priests  abused  them 
with  might  and  main,  their  rebellion  ended  in  a  lamentable 
manner ;  themselves  being  seized  and  tried,  and  though  convicted, 
not  deemed  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  sent  to  the  scaffold, 
where  they  might  have  had  the  satisfaction  of  saying — 

Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori. 

My  visitor,  after  saying  that  of  the  money  won,  Murtagh  retained 
a  considerable  portion,  that  a  part  went  to  the  hierarchy  for  what 
were  called  church  purposes,  and  that  the took  the  re- 
mainder, which  it  employed  in  establishing  a  newspaper,  in  which 
the  private  characters  of  the  worthiest  and  most  loyal  Protestants 
in  Ireland  were  traduced  and  vilified,  concluded  his  account  by 
observing,  that  it  was  the  common  belief  that  Murtagh,  having  by 
his  services,  ecclesiastical  and  political,  acquired  the  confidence  of 
the  priesthood  and  favour  of  the  Government,  would,  on  the  first 
vacancy,  be  appointed  to  the  high  office  of  Popish  Primate  of 
Ireland. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

LEAVING  Horncastle  I  bent  my  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  east. 
I  walked  at  a  brisk  rate,  and  late  in  the  evening  reached  a  large 
town,  situate  at  the  entrance  of  an  extensive  firth,  or  arm  of  the 
sea,  which  prevented  my  farther  progress  eastward.  Sleeping  that 
night  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  I  departed  early  next  morning 
in  the  direction  of  the  south.  A  walk  of  about  twenty  miles  brought 
me  to  another  large  town,  situated  on  a  river,  where  I  again  turned 
towards  the  east.  At  the  end  of  the  town  I  was  accosted  by  a 
fiery-faced  individual,  somewhat  under  the  middle  size,  dressed  as 
a  recruiting  sergeant. 

"Young  man,"  said  the  recruiting  sergeant,  "you  are  just  the 
kind  of  person  to  serve  the  Honourable  East  India  Company." 

"I  had  rather  the  Honourable  Company  should  serve  me," 
said  I. 

"  Of  course,  young  man.  Well,  the  Honourable  East  India 
Company  shall  serve  you — that's  reasonable.  Here,  take  this 
shilling ;  't  is  service-money.  The  Honourable  Company  engages 
to  serve  you,  and  you  the  Honourable  Company;  both  parties 
shall  be  thus  served ;  that's  just  and  reasonable." 

"  And  what  must  I  do  for  the  Company  ?  " 

"Only  go  to  India;  that's  all." 

"And  what  should  I  do  in  India?" 

"  Fight,  my  brave  boy  !  fight,  my  youthful  hero  !  " 

"  What  kind  of  country  is  India?  " 

"The  finest  country  in  the  world!  Rivers,  bigger  than  the 
Ouse.  Hills,  higher  than  anything  near  Spalding !  Trees — you 
never  saw  such  trees  !  Fruits — you  never  saw  such  fruits  !  " 

"And  the  people — what  kind  of  folk  are  they?" 

"  Pah  !  Kauloes — blacks — a  set  of  rascals  not  worth  regarding." 

"  Kauloes  !  "  said  I ;  "  blacks  I  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  recruiting  sergeant ;  "  and  they  call  us  lolloes, 
which  in  their  beastly  gibberish,  means  reds." 

"  Lolloes  !  "  said  I ;  "  reds  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  recruiting  sergeant,  "  kauloes  and  lolloes ;  and 
all  the  lolloes  have  to  do  is  to  kick  and  cut  down  the  kauloes,  and 


\ 

August,  1825.]  EASTWARD  BOUND.  301 

take  from  them  their  rupees,  which  mean  silver  money.  Why  do 
you  stare  so?" 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  this  is  the  very  language  of  Mr.  Petulengro." 

"  Mr.  Pet ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I  "and  Tawno  Chikno." 

"  Tawno  Chik ?  I  say,  young  fellow,  I  don't  like  your  way 

of  speaking ;  no,  nor  your  way  of  looking.  You  are  mad,  sir ; 
you  are  mad ;  and  what's  this  ?  Why  your  hair  is  grey !  You 
won't  do  for  the  Honourable  Company — they  like  red.  I'm  glad 
I  didn't  give  you  the  shilling.  Good-day  to  you." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I  as  I  proceeded  rapidly  along  a 
broad  causeway,  in  the  direction  of  the  east,  "  if  Mr.  Petulengro 
and  Tawno  Chikno  came  originally  from  India.  I  think  I'll  go 
there." 


{End  of  Vol.  //.,  and  of  the  fifth  and  last  of  the  Autobiography.'] 


APPENDIX. 
CHAPTER  I. 

A  WORD  FOR  LA  VENGRO. 

[SHORTLY  after  the  publication  of  the  first  three  volumes  of  the 
present  work,  the  author  received  various  letters  from  individuals, 
in  which  he  was  requested  to  state  what  might  be  the  drift  and 
tendency  of  Lavengro.  The  author  cannot  help  thinking  it  some- 
what extraordinary,  that,  after  a  preface  in  which  he  was  particularly 
careful  to  tell  the  public  what  the  book  was,  and  the  object  with 
which  it  was  written,  any  fresh  information  with  respect  to  it  should 
be  required  of  him.  As,  however,  all  the  letters  which  he  has 
received  have  been  written  in  a  friendly  spirit,  he  will  now  endeav- 
our to  be  a  little  more  explicit  than  on  a  former  occasion.] 

Lavengro  is  the  history  up  to  a  certain  period  of  one  of  rather 
a  peculiar  mind  and  system  of  nerves,  with  an  exterior  shy  and 
cold,  under  which  lurk  much  curiosity,  especially  with  regard  to 
what  is  wild  and  extraordinary,  a  considerable  quantity  of  energy 
and  industry,  and  an  unconquerable  love  of  independence.  It 
narrates  his  earliest  dreams  and  feelings,  dwells  with  minuteness 
on  the  ways,  words  and  characters  of  his  father,  mother  and 
brother,  lingers  on  the  occasional  resting-places  of  his  wandering 
half-military  childhood,  describes  the  gradual  hardening  of  his 
bodily  frame  by  robust  exercises,  his  successive  struggles,  after  his 
family  and  himself  have  settled  down  in  a  small  local  capital,  to 
obtain  knowledge  of  every  kind,  but  more  particularly  philological 
lore ;  his  visits  to  the  tent  of  the  Romany  chal,  and  the  parlour  of  the 
Anglo-German  philosopher;  the  effect  produced  upon  his  character 
by  his  flinging  himself  into  contact  with  people  all  widely  differing 
from  each  other,  but  all  extraordinary  ;  his  reluctance  to  settle 
down  to  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  life ;  his  struggles  after  moral 
truth;  his  glimpses  of  God  and  the  obscuration  of  the  Divine 
Being,  to  his  mind's  eye ;  and  his  being  cast  upon  the  world  of 
London  by  the  death  of  his  father,  at  the  age  of  nineteen.  In 
the  world  within  a  world,  the  world  of  London,  it  shows  him 

(302) 


1 854-]  APPENDIX.  303 

playing  his  part  for  some  time  as  he  best  can,  in  the  capacity  of 
a  writer  for  reviews  and  magazines,  and  describes  what  he  saw  and 
underwent  whilst  labouring  in  that  capacity;  it  represents  him, 
however,  as  never  forgetting  that  he  is  the  son  of  a  brave  but  poor 
gentleman,  and  that  if  he  is  a  hack  author,  he  is  likewise  a  scholar. 
It  shows  him  doing  no  dishonourable  jobs,  and  proves  that  if  he 
occasionally  associates  with  low  characters,  he  does  so  chiefly  to 
gratify  the  curiosity  of  a  scholar.  In  his  conversations  with  the 
apple-woman  of  London  Bridge,  the  scholar  is  ever  apparent,  so 
again  in  his  acquaintance  with  the  man  of  the  table ;  for  the  book 
is  no  raker  up  of  the  uncleanness  of  London,  and  if  it  gives  what 
at  first  sight  appears  refuse,  it  invariably  shows  that  a  pearl  of 
some  kind,  generally  a  philological  one,  is  contained  amongst  it ; 
it  shows  its  hero  always  accompanied  by  his  love  of  independence, 
scorning  in  the  greatest  poverty  to  receive  favours  from  anybody, 
and  describes  him  finally  rescuing  himself  from  peculiarly  miser- 
able circumstances  by  writing  a  book,  an  original  book,  within 
a  week,  even  as  Johnson  is  said  to  have  written  his  Rasselas, 
and  Beckford  his  Vathek,  and  tells  how,  leaving  London,  he 
betakes  himself  to  the  roads  and  fields. 

In  the  country  it  shows  him  leading  a  life  of  roving  adventure, 
becoming  tinker,  gypsy,  postillion,  ostler ;  associating  with  various 
kinds  of  people,  chiefly  of  the  lower  classes,  whose  ways  and 
habits  are  described  ;  but,  though  leading  this  erratic  life,  we 
gather  from  the  book  that  his  habits  are  neither  vulgar  nor  vicious, 
that  he  still  follows  to  a  certain  extent  his  favourite  pursuits, 
hunting  after  strange  characters,  or  analysing  strange  words  and 
names.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  fifth  volume,  which  terminates 
the  first  part  of  the  history,  it  hints  that  he  is  about  to  quit  his 
native  land  on  a  grand  philological  expedition. 

Those  who  read  this  book  with  attention — and  the  author 
begs  to  observe  that  it  would  be  of  little  utility  to  read  it  hurriedly 
— may  derive  much  information  with  respect  to  matters  of  phil- 
ology and  literature ;  it  will  be  found  treating  of  most  of  the 
principal  languages  from  Ireland  to  China,  and  of  the  literature 
which  they  contain ;  and  it  is  particularly  minute  with  regard  to 
the  ways,  manners  and  speech  of  the  English  section  of  the 
most  extraordinary  and  mysterious  clan  or  tribe  of  people  to  be 
found  in  the  whole  world — the  children  of  Roma.  But  it  contains 
matters  of  much  more  importance  than  anything  in  connection 
with  philology,  and  the  literature  and  manners  of  nations.  Per- 
haps no  work  was  ever  offered  to  the  public  in  which  the  kindness 
and  providence  of  God  bays  been  set  forth  by  more  striking 


304  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  i. 

examples,  or  the  machinations  of  priestcraft  been  more  truly  and 
lucidly  exposed,  or  the  dangers  which  result  to  a  nation  when  it 
abandons  itself  to  effeminacy,  and  a  rage  for  what  is  novel  and 
fashionable,  than  the  present. 

With  respect  to  the  kindness  and  providence  of  God,  are  they 
not  exemplified  in  the  case  of  the  old  apple-woman  and  her  son  ? 
These  are  beings  in  many  points  bad,  but  with  warm  affections, 
who,  after  an  agonising  separation,  are  restored  to  each  other,  but 
not  until  the  hearts  of  both  are  changed  and  purified  by  the 
influence  of  affliction.  Are  they  not  exemplified"  in  the  case  of 
the  rich  gentleman,  who  touches  objects  in  order  to  avert  the  evil 
chance  ?  This  being  has  great  gifts  and  many  amiable  qualities, 
but  does  not  everybody  see  that  his  besetting  sin  is  selfishness  ? 
He  fixes  his  mind  on  certain  objects,  and  takes  inordinate  interest 
in  them,  because  they  are  his  own,  and  those  very  objects,  through 
the  providence  of  God,  which  is  kindness  in  disguise,  become 
snakes  and  scorpions  to  whip  him.  Tired  of  various  pursuits,  he 
at  last  becomes  an  author,  and  publishes  a  book,  which  is  very 
much  admired,  and  which  he  loves  with  his  usual  inordinate 
affection  ;  the  book,  consequently  becomes  a  viper  to  him,  and  at 
last  he  flings  it  aside  and  begins  another ;  the  book,  however,  is 
not  flung  aside  by  the  world,  who  are  benefited  by  it,  deriving 
pleasure  and  knowledge  from  it :  so  the  man  who  merely  wrote 
to  gratify  self,  has  already  done  good  to  others,  and  got  himself 
an  honourable  name.  But  God  will  not  allow  that  man  to  put 
that  book  under  his  head  and  use  it  as  a  pillow :  the  book  has 
become  a  viper  to  him,  he  has  banished  it,  and  is  about  another, 
which  he  finishes  and  gives  to  the  world ;  it  is  a  better  book  than 
the  first,  and  every  one  is  delighted  with  it ;  but  it  proves  to  the 
writer  a  scorpion,  because  he  loves  it  with  inordinate  affection  ; 
but  it  was  good  for  the  world  that  he  produced  this  book,  which 
stung  him  as  a  scorpion.  Yes  ;  and  good  for  himself,  for  the 
labour  of  writing  it  amused  him,  and  perhaps  prevented  him  from 
dying  of  apoplexy;  but  the  book  is  banished,  and  another  is  begun, 
and  herein,  again,  is  the  providence  of  God  manifested ;  the  man 
has  the  power  of  producing  still,  and  God  determines  that  he  shall 
give  to  the  world  what  remains  in  his  brain,  which  he  would  not 
do,  had  he  been  satisfied  with  the  second  work;  he  would 
have  gone  to  sleep  upon  that  as  he  would  upon  the  first,  for  the 
man  is  selfish  and  lazy.  In  his  account  of  what  he  suffered 
during  the  composition  of  this  work,  his  besetting  sin  of  selfishness 
is  manifest  enough ;  the  work  on  which  he  is  engaged  occupies 
his  every  thought,  it  is  his  idol,  his  deity,  it  shall  be  all  his  own, 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  305 

he  won't  borrow  a  thought  from  any  one  else,  and  he  is  so  afraid 
lest,  when  he  publishes  it,  that  it  should  be  thought  that  he  had 
borrowed  from  any  one,  that  he  is  continually  touching  objects, 
his  nervous  system,  owing  to  his  extreme  selfishness,  having  be- 
come partly  deranged.  He  is  left  touching,  in  order  to  banish 
the  evil  chance  from  his  book,  his  deity.  No  more  of  his  history 
is  given  ;  but  does  the  reader  think  that  God  will  permit  that  man 
to  go  to  sleep  on  his  third  book,  however  extraordinary  it  may  be  ? 
Assuredly  not.  God  will  not  allow  that  man  to  rest  till  he  has 
cured  him  to  a  certain  extent  of  his  selfishness,  which  has,  however, 
hitherto  been  very  useful  to  the  world. 

Then,  again,  in  the  tale  of  Peter  Williams,  is  not  the  hand  of 
Providence  to  be  seen  ?  This  person  commits  a  sin  in  his  child- 
hood, utters  words  of  blasphemy,  the  remembrance  of  which,  in 
after  life,  preying  upon  his  imagination,  unfits  him  for  quiet  pursuits, 
to  which  he  seems  to  have  been  naturally  inclined;  but  for  the 
remembrance  of  that  sin,  he  would  have  been  Peter  Williams  the 
quiet,  respectable  Welsh  farmer,  somewhat  fond  of  reading  the 
ancient  literature  of  his  country  in  winter  evenings,  after  his  work 
was  done.  God,  however,  was  aware  that  there  was  something  in 
Peter  Williams  to  entitle  him  to  assume  a  higher  calling;  he 
therefore  permits  this  sin,  which,  though  a  childish  affair,  was  yet 
a  sin,  and  committed  deliberately,  to  prey  upon  his  mind  till  he 
becomes  at  last  an  instrument  in  the  hand  of  God,  a  humble  Paul, 
the  great  preacher,  Peter  Williams,  who,  though  he  considers 
himself  a  reprobate  and  a  castaway,  instead  of  having  recourse  to 
drinking  in  mad  desperation,  as  many  do  who  consider  themselves 
reprobates,  goes  about  Wales  and  England  preaching  the  word  of 
God,  dilating  on  his  power  and  majesty,  and  visiting  the  sick  and 
afflicted,  until  God  sees  fit  to  restore  to  him  his  peace  of  mind ; 
which  he  does  not  do,  however,  until  that  mind  is  in  a  proper 
condition  to  receive  peace,  till  it  has  been  purified  by  the  pain 
of  the  one  idea  which  has  so  long  been  permitted  to  riot  in  his 
brain ;  which  pain,  however,  an  angel,  in  the  shape  of  a  gentle, 
faithful  wife,  had  occasionally  alleviated ;  for  God  is  merciful  even 
in  the  blows  which  He  bestoweth,  and  will  not  permit  any  one  to 
be  tempted  beyond  the  measure  which  he  can  support.  And 
here  it  will  be  as  well  for  the  reader  to  ponder  upon  the  means 
by  which  the  Welsh  preacher  is  relieved  from  his  mental  misery : 
he  is  not  relieved  by  a  text  from  the  Bible,  by  the  words  of  con- 
solation and  wisdom  addressed  to  him  by  his  angel-minded  wife, 
nor  by  the  preaching  of  one  yet  more  eloquent  than  himself ;  but 
by  a  quotation  made  by  Lavengro  from  the  life  of  Mary 

20 


306  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  i. 

Flanders,  cut-purse  and  prostitute,  which  life  Lavengro  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  reading  at  the  stall  of  his  old  friend  the  apple- 
woman,  on  London  Bridge,  who  had  herself  been  very  much 
addicted  to  the  perusal  of  it,  though  without  any  profit  whatever. 
Should  the  reader  be  dissatisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  Peter 
Williams  is  made  to  find  relief,  the  author  would  wish  to  answer, 
that  the  Almighty  frequently  accomplishes  his  purposes  by  means 
which  appear  very  singular  to  the  eyes  of  men,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  observe  that  the  manner  in  which  that  relief  is  obtained, 
is  calculated  to  read  a  lesson  to  the  proud,  fanciful  and  squeamish, 
who  are  ever  in  a  fidget  lest  they  should  be  thought  to  mix  with 
low  society  or  to  bestow  a  moment's  attention  on  publications 
which  are  not  what  is  called  of  a  perfectly  unobjectionable 
character.  Had  not  Lavengro  formed  the  acquaintance  of  the  old 
apple-woman  on  London  Bridge,  he  would  not  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  reading  the  life  of  Mary  Flanders ;  and,  consequently,  of 
storing  in  a  memory,  which  never  forgets  anything,  a  passage 
which  contained  a  balm  for  the  agonised  mind  of  poor  Peter 
Williams.  The  best  medicines  are  not  always  found  in  the  finest 
shops.  Suppose,  for  example,  if,  instead  of  going  to  London 
Bridge  to  read,  he  had  gone  to  Albemarle  Street,  and  had  received 
from  the  proprietors  of  the  literary  establishment  in  that  very 
fashionable'street,  permission  to  read  the  publications  on  the  tables 
of  the  saloons  there,  does  the  reader  think  he  would  have  met  any 
balm  in  those  publications  for  the  case  of  Peter  Williams  ?  does 
the  reader  suppose  that  he  would  have  found  Mary  Flanders 
there?  He  would  certainly  have  found  that  highly  unobjection- 
able publication  Rasselas,  and  the  Spectator >  or  Lives  of  Royal  and 
Illustrious  Personages,  but,  of  a  surety,  no  Mary  Flanders  ;  so 
when  Lavengro  met  with  Peter  Williams,  he  would  have  been 
unprovided  with  a  balm  to  cure  his  ulcerated  mind,  and  have 
parted  from  him  in  a  way  not  quite  so  satisfactory  as  the  manner 
in  which  he  took  his  leave  of  him ;  for  it  is  certain  that  he  might 
have  read  Rasselas,  and  all  the  other  unexceptionable  works  to  be 
found  in  the  library  of  Albemarle  Street,  over  and  over  again, 
before  he  would  have  found  any  cure  in  them  for  the  case  of  Peter 
Williams.  Therefore  the  author  requests  the  reader  to  drop  any 
squeamish  nonsense  he  may  wish  to  utter  about  Mary  Flanders, 
and  the  manner  in  which  Peter  Williams  was  cured. 

And  now  with  respect  to  the  old  man  who  knew  Chinese, 
but  could  not  tell  what  was  o'clock.  This  individual  was  a  man 
whose  natural  powers  would  have  been  utterly  buried  and  lost 
beneath  a  mountain  of  sloth  and  laziness  had  not  God  determined 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  307 

otherwise.  He  had  in  his  early  years  chalked  out  for  himself  a 
plan  of  life  in  which  he  had  his  own  ease  and  self-indulgence 
solely  in  view;  he  had  no  particular  bad  passions  to  gratify,  he 
only  wished  to  lead  an  easy,  quiet  life,  just  as  if  the  business  of 
this  mighty  world  could  be  carried  on  by  innocent  people  fond 
of  ease  and  quiet,  or  that  Providence  would  permit  innocent,  quiet 
drones  to  occupy  any  portion  of  the  earth  and  to  cumber  it. 
God  had  at  any  rate  decreed  that  this  man  should  not  cumber  it 
as  a  drone.  He  brings  a  certain  affliction  upon  him,  the  agony 
of  which  produces  that  terrible  whirling  of  the  brain  which, 
unless  it  is  stopped  in  time,  produces  madness ;  he  suffers  in- 
describable misery  for  a  period,  until  one  morning  his  attention 
is  arrested,  and  his  curiosity  is  aroused,  by  certain  Chinese  letters 
on  a  teapot;  his  curiosity  increases  more  and  more,  and,  of 
course,  in  proportion  as  his  curiosity  is  increased  with  respect  to 
the  Chinese  marks,  the  misery  in  his  brain,  produced  by  his 
mental  affliction,  decreases.  He  sets  about  learning  Chinese, 
and  after  the  lapse  of  many  years,  during  which  his  mind  subsides 
into  a  certain  state  of  tranquillity,  he  acquires  sufficient  knowledge 
of  Chinese  to  be  able  to  translate  with  ease  the  inscriptions  to  be 
found  on  its  singular  crockery.  Yes,  the  laziest  of  human  beings, 
through  the  providence  of  God,  a  being,  too,  of  rather  inferior 
capacity,  acquires  the  written  part  of  a  language  so  difficult  that, 
as  Lavengro  said  on  a  former  occasion,  none  but  the  cleverest 
people  in  Europe,  the  French,  are  able  to  acquire  it.  But  God 
did  not  intend  that  man  should  merely  acquire  Chinese.  He 
intended  that  he  should  be  of  use  to  his  species,  and  by  the 
instrumentality  of  the  first  Chinese  inscription  which  he  translates, 
the  one  which  first  arrested  his  curiosity,  he  is  taught  the  duties  of 
hospitality ;  yes,  by  means  of  an  inscription  in  the  language  of  a 
people,  who  have  scarcely  an  idea  of  hospitality  themselves,  God 
causes  the  slothful  man  to  play  a  useful  and  beneficent  part  in 
the  world,  relieving  distressed  wanderers,  and,  amongst  others, 
Lavengro  himself.  But  a  striking  indication  of  the  man's  sur- 
prising sloth  is  still  apparent  in  what  he  omits  to  do;  he  has 
learnt  Chinese,  the  most  difficult  of  languages,  and  he  practises 
acts  of  hospitality,  because  he  believes  himself  enjoined  to  do  so 
by  the  Chinese  inscription,  but  he  cannot  tell  the  hour  of  the 
day  by  the  clock  within  his  house;  he  can  get  on,  he  thinks, 
very  well  without  being  able  to  do  so ;  therefore,  from  this  one 
omission,  it  is  easy  to  come  to  a  conclusion  as  to  what  a  sluggard's 
part  the  man  would  have  played  in  life,  but  for  the  dispensation 
of  Providence;  nothing  but  extreme  agony  could  have  induced 


308  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  i. 

such  a  man  to  do  anything  useful.  He  still  continues,  with  all 
he  has  acquired,  with  all  his  usefulness,  and  with  all  his  innocence 
of  character,  without  any  proper  sense  of  religion,  though  he  has 
attained  a  rather  advanced  age.  If  it  be  observed,  that  this  want 
of  religion  is  a  great  defect  in  the  story,  the  author  begs  leave  to 
observe  that  he  cannot  help  it.  Lavengro  relates  the  lives  of 
people  so  far  as  they  were  placed  before  him,  but  no  further. 
It  was  certainly  a  great  defect  in  so  good  a  man  to  be  without 
religion ;  it  was  likewise  a  great  defect  in  so  learned  a  man  not  to 
be  able  to  tell  what  was  o'clock.  It  is  probable  that  God,  in  His 
loving  kindness,  will  not  permit  that  man  to  go  out  of  the  world 
without  religion ;  who  knows  but  some  powerful  minister  of  the 
Church,  full  of  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God,  will  illume  that  man's 
dark  mind ;  perhaps  some  clergyman  will  come  to  the  parish  who 
will  visit  him  and  teach  him  his  duty  to  his  God.  Yes,  it  is  very 
probable  that  such  a  man,  before  he  dies,  will  have  been  made 
to  love  his  God ;  whether  he  will  ever  learn  to  know  what's 
o'clock,  is  another  matter.  It  is  probable  that  he  will  go  out  of 
the  world  without  knowing  what's  o'clock.  It  is  not  so  necessary 
to  be  able  to  tell  the  time  of  day  by  the  clock  as  to  know 
one's  God  through  His  inspired  word ;  a  man  cannot  get  to 
heaven  without  religion,  but  a  man  can  get  there  very  comfortably 
without  knowing  what's  o'clock. 

But,  above  all,  the  care  and  providence  of  God  are  manifested 
in  the  case  of  Lavengro  himself,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  is 
enabled  to  make  his  way  in  the  world  up  to  a  certain  period, 
without  falling  a  prey  either  to  vice  or  poverty.  In  his  history, 
there  is  a  wonderful  illustration  of  part  of  the  text,  quoted  by  his 
mother :  "  I  have  been  young,  but  now  am  old,  yet  never  saw  I 
the  righteous  forsaken,  or  his  seed  begging  bread  ".  He  is  the 
son  of  good  and  honourable  parents,  but  at  the  critical  period 
of  life,  that  of  entering  into  the  world,  he  finds  himself  without 
any  earthly  friend  to  help  him,  yet  he  manages  to  make  his  way ; 
he  does  not  become  a  Captain  in  the  Life  Guards,  it  is  true,  nor 
does  he  get  into  Parliament,  nor  does  the  last  volume  conclude 
in  the  most  satisfactory  and  unobjectionable  manner,  by  his 
marrying  a  dowager  countess,  as  that  wise  man  Addison  did,  or 
by  his  settling  down  as  a  great  country  gentleman,  perfectly  happy 
and  contented,  like  the  very  moral  Roderick  Random,  or  the 
equally  estimable  Peregrine  Pickle  ;  he  is  hack  author,  gypsy, 
tinker  and  postillion,  yet,  upon  the  whole,  he  seems  to  be  quite 
as  happy  as  the  younger  sons  of  most  earls,  to  have  as  high 
feelings  of  honour;  and  when  the  reader  loses  sight  of  him,  he 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  309 

has  money  in  his  pocket  honestly  acquired,  to  enable  him  to 
commence  a  journey  quite  as  laudable  as  those  which  the  younger 
sons  of  earls  generally  undertake.  Surely  all  this  is  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  kindness  and  providence  of  God  ;  and  yet  he  is  not  a 
religious  person;  up  to  the  time  when  the  reader  loses  sight  of 
him,  he  is  decidedly  not  a  religious  person ;  he  has  glimpses,  it  is 
true,  of  that  God  who  does  not  forsake  him,  but  he  prays  very 
seldom,  is  not  fond  of  going  to  church  ;  and,  though  he  admires 
Tate  and  Brady's  version  of  the  Psalms,  his  admiration  is  rather 
caused  by  the  beautiful  poetry  which  that  version  contains  than 
the  religion  ;  yet  his  tale  is  not  finished — like  the  tale  of  the 
gentleman  who  touched  objects,  and  that  of  the  old  man  who 
knew  Chinese  without  knowing  what  was  o'clock ;  perhaps,  like 
them,  he  is  destined  to  become  religious,  and  to  have,  instead  of 
occasional  glimpses  frequent  and  distinct  views  of  his  God ;  yet, 
though  he  may  become  religious,  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
he  will  become  a  very  precise  and  straightlaced  person  ;  it  is 
probable  that  he  will  retain,  with  his  scholarship,  something  of  his 
gypsyism,  his  predilection  for  the  hammer  and  tongs,  and  perhaps 
some  inclination  to  put  on  certain  gloves,  not  white  kid,  with  any 
friend  who  may  be  inclined  for  a  little  old  English  diversion,  and 
a  readiness  to  take  a  glass  of  ale,  with  plenty  of  malt  in  it,  and  as 
little  hop  as  may  well  be — ale  at  least  two  years  old — with  the 
aforesaid  friend,  when  the  diversion  is  over ;  for,  as  it  is  the 
belief  of  the  writer  that  a  person  may  get  to  heaven  very  comfort- 
ably without  knowing  what's  o'clock,  so  it  is  his  belief  that  he  will 
not  be  refused  admission  there,  because  to  the  last  he  has  been 
fond  of  healthy  and  invigorating  exercises,  and  felt  a  willingness 
to  partake  of  any  of  the  good  things  which  it  pleases  the  Almighty 
to  put  within  the  reach  of  his  children  during  their  sojourn  upon 
earth. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON  PRIESTCRAFT. 

THE  writer  will  now  say  a  few  words  about  priestcraft,  and  the 
machinations  of  Rome,  and  will  afterwards  say  something  about 
himself,  and  his  motives  for  writing  against  them. 

With  respect  to  Rome,  and  her  machinations,  much  valuable 
information  can  be  obtained  from  particular  parts  of  Lavengro, 
and  its  sequel.  Shortly  before  the  time  when  the  hero  of  the 
book  is  launched  into  the  world,  the  Popish  agitation  in  England 
had  commenced.  The  Popish  propaganda  had  determined  to 
make  a  grand  attempt  on  England ;  Popish  priests  were  scattered 
over  the  land,  doing  the  best  they  could  to  make  converts  to  the 
old  superstition.  With  the  plans  of  Rome,  and  her  hopes,  and 
the  reasons  on  which  those  hopes  are  grounded,  the  hero  of  the 
book  becomes  acquainted,  during  an  expedition  which  he  makes 
into  the  country,  from  certain  conversations  which  he  holds  with 
a  priest  in  a  dingle,  in  which  the  hero  had  taken  up  his  residence  ; 
he  likewise  learns  from  the  same  person  much  of  the  secret 
history  of  the  Roman  See,  and  many  matters  connected  with  the 
origin  and  progress  of  the  Popish  superstition.  The  individual 
with  whom  he  holds  these  conversations  is  a  learned,  intelligent, 
but  highly-unprincipled  person,  of  a  character  however  very 
common  amongst  the  priests  of  Rome,  who  in  general  are  people 
void  of  all  religion,  and  who,  notwithstanding  they  are  tied  to 
Rome  by  a  band  which  they  have  neither  the  power  nor  wish  to 
break,  turn  her  and  her  practices,  over  their  cups  with  their 
confidential  associates,  to  a  ridicule  only  exceeded  by  that  to 
which  they  turn  those  who  become  the  dupes  of  their  mistress 
and  themselves. 

It  is  now  necessary  that  the  writer  should  say  something  with 
respect  to  himself,  and  his  motives  for  waging  war  against  Rome. 
First  of  all,  with  respect  to  himself,  he  wishes  to  state,  that  to  the 
very  last  moment  of  his  life,  he  will  do  and  say  all  that  in  his 
power  may  be  to  hold  up  to  contempt  and  execration  the  priest- 
craft and  practices  of  Rome  ;  there  is,  perhaps,  no  person  better 
acquainted  than  himself,  not  even  among  the  choicest  spirits  of 
the  priesthood,  with  the  origin  and  history  of  Popery.  From 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  311 

what  he  saw  and  heard  of  Popery  in  England,  at  a  very  early 
period  of  his  life,  his  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  he  spared  him- 
self no  trouble,  either  by  travel  or  study,  to  make  himself  well 
acquainted  with  it  in  all  its  phases,  the  result  being  a  hatred  of  it, 
which  he  hopes  and  trusts  he  shall  retain  till  the  moment  when 
his  spirit  quits  the  body.  Popery  is  the  great  lie  of  the  world ;  a 
source  from  which  more  misery  and  social  degradation  have 
flowed  upon  the  human  race,  than  from  all  the  other  sources  from 
which  those  evils  come.  It  is  the  oldest  of  all  superstitions ;  and 
though  in  Europe  it  assumes  the  name  of  Christianity,  it  existed 
and  flourished  amidst  the  Himalayan  hills  at  least  two  thousand 
years  before  the  real  Christ  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea ;  in 
a  word,  it  is  Buddhism ;  and  let  those  who  may  be  disposed  to 
doubt  this  assertion,  compare  the  Popery  of  Rome,  and  the 
superstitious  practices  of  its  followers,  with  the  doings  of  the 
priests  who  surround  the  grand  Lama ;  and  the  mouthings, 
bellowing,  turnings  round,  and,  above  all,  the  penances  of  the 
followers  of  Buddh  with  those  of  Roman  devotees.  But  he  is 
not  going  to  dwell  here  on  this  point ;  it  is  dwelt  upon  at  tolerable 
length  in  the  text,  and  has  likewise  been  handled  with  extra- 
ordinary power  by  the  pen  of  the  gifted  but  irreligious  Volney  ; 
moreover,  the  elite  of  the  Roman  priesthood  are  perfectly  well 
aware  that  their  system  is  nothing  but  Buddhism  under  a  slight 
disguise,  and  the  European  world  in  general  has  entertained  for 
some  time  past  an  inkling  of  the  fact. 

And  now  a  few  words  with  respect  to  the  motives  of  the  writer 
for  expressing  a  hatred  for  Rome. 

This  expressed  abhorrence  of  the  author  for  Rome  might  be 
entitled  to  little  regard,  provided  it  were  possible  to  attribute  it  to 
any  self-interested  motive.  There  have  been  professed  enemies 
of  Rome,  or  of  this  or  that  system ;  but  their  professed  enmity 
may  frequently  be  traced  to  some  cause  which  does  them  little 
credit ;  but  the  writer  of  these  lines  has  no  motive,  and  can  have 
no  motive,  for  his  enmity  to  Rome,  save  the  abhorrence  of  an 
honest  heart  for  what  is  false,  base  and  cruel.  A  certain  clergy- 
man wrote  with  much  heat  against  the  Papists  in  the  time  of x 

who  was  known  to  favour  the  Papists,  but  was  not  expected  to 
continue  long  in  office,  and  whose  supposed  successor,2  the  person, 
indeed,  who  did  succeed  him,  was  thought  to  be  hostile  to  the 
Papists.  This  divine,  who  obtained  a  rich  benefice  from  the 
successor  of J  who  during 's  a  time  had  always  opposed 

1  MS.,  "Canning"  (1827).  *  Viscount  Goderich. 


312  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  n. 

him  in  everything  he  proposed  to  do,  and  who,  of  course,  during 
that  time  affected  to  be  very  inimical  to  Popery — this  divine 
might  well  be  suspected  of  having  a  motive  equally  creditable 
for  writing  against  the  Papists,  as  that  which  induced  him  to 
write  for  them,  as  soon  as  his  patron,  who  eventually  did  some- 
thing more  for  him,1  had  espoused  their  cause ;  but  what  motive, 
save  an  honest  one,  can  the  present  writer  have,  for  expressing  an 
abhorrence  of  Popery?  He  is  no  clergyman,  and  consequently 
can  expect  neither  benefices  nor  bishoprics,  supposing  it  were  the 
fashion  of  the  present,  or  likely  to  be  the  fashion  of  any  future, 
administration  to  reward  clergymen  with  benefices  or  bishoprics, 
who,  in  the  defence  of  the  religion  of  their  country  write,  or  shall 
write,  against  Popery,  and  not  to  reward  those  who  write,  or  shall 
write,  in  favour  of  it,  and  all  its  nonsense  and  abominations. 

"  But  if  not  a  clergyman,  he  is  the  servant  of  a  certain  society 
which  has  the  overthrow  of  Popery  in  view,  and  therefore,"  etc. 
This  assertion,  which  has  been  frequently  made,  is  incorrect, 
even  as  those  who  have  made  it  probably  knew  it  to  be.  He 
is  the  servant  of  no  society  whatever.  He  eats  his  own  bread,2 
and  is  one  of  the  very  few  men  in  England  who  are  independent 
in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

It  is  true  he  went  to  Spain  with  the  colours  of  that  society  on 
his  hat — oh  !  the  blood  glows  in  his  veins  !  oh  !  the  marrow  awakes 
in  his  old  bones  when  he  thinks  of  what  he  accomplished  in  Spain 
in  the  cause  of  religion  and  civilisation  with  the  colours  of  that 
society  in  his  hat,  and  its  weapon  in  his  hand,  even  the  sword  of 
the  word  of  God ;  how  with  that  weapon  he  hewed  left  and  right, 
making  the  priests  fly  before  him,  and  run  away  squeaking: 
"  Vaya  I  qu£  demonio  es  estef"  Ay,  and  when  he  thinks  of 
the  plenty  of  Bible  swords  which  he  left  behind  him,  destined 
to  prove,  and  which  have  already  proved,  pretty  calthrops  in  the 
heels  of  Popery.  "  Halloo  !  Batuschca,"  he  exclaimed  the  other 
night  on  reading  an  article  in  a  newspaper;3  "  what  do  you  think 
of  the  present  doings  in  Spain  ?  Your  old  friend  the  zingaro,  the 
gitano  who  rode  about  Spain,  to  say  nothing  of  Galicia,  with  the 
Greek  Buchini  behind  him  as  his  squire,  had  a  hand  in  bringing 
them  about ;  there  are  many  brave  Spaniards  connected  with  the 
present  movement4  who  took  Bibles  from  his  hands,  and  read 
them  and  profited  by  them,  learning  from  the  inspired  page  the 

1  A/5.,  "  who  eventually  presented  him  with  a  bishopric,  had  espoused,"  etc. 

2 MS.,  "  He  is  a  small  landed  proprietor  who  eats,"  etc. 

»  MS. ,  "  the  Despatch,  of  course  ". 

4  The  Spanish  Revolution  of  'S4-'s6,  made  by  O'Donnell. 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  313 

duties  of  one  man  towards  another,  and  the  real  value  of  a  priest- 
hood and  their  head,  who  set  at  nought  the  Word  of  God,  and 
think  only  of  their  own  temporal  interests ;  ay,  and  who  learned 
Gitano — their  own  Gitano — from  the  lips  of  the  London  Calor6, 
and  also  songs  in  the  said  Gitano,  very  fit  to  dumbfounder  your 
semi- Buddhist  priests  when  they  attempt  to  bewilder  people's 
minds  with  their  school-logic  and  pseudo-ecclesiastical  nonsense, 
songs  such  as — 

'  Un  Erajai 
Sinaba  chibando  un  sermon '." l 

But  with  that  society  he  has  long  since  ceased  to  have  any 
connection  ;  he  bade  it  adieu  with  feelings  of  love  and  admiration 
more  than  fourteen  years  ago ,  so  in  continuing  to  assault  Popery, 
no  hopes  of  interest  founded  on  that  society  can  sway  his  mind — 
interest !  who,  with  worldly  interest  in  view,  would  ever  have 
anything  to  do  with  that  society  ?  It  is  poor  and  supported,  like 
its  founder  Christ,  by  poor  people ;  and  so  far  from  having  poli- 
tical influence,  it  is  in  such  disfavour,  and  has  ever  been,  with 
the  dastardly  great,  to  whom  the  government  of  England  has  for 
many  years  past  been  confided,  that  the  having  borne  its  colours 
only  for  a  month  would  be  sufficient  to  exclude  any  man,  whatever 
his  talents,  his  learning,  or  his  courage  may  be,  from  the  slightest 
chance  of  being  permitted  to  serve  his  country  either  for  fee,  or 
without.  A  fellow  who  unites  in  himself  the  bankrupt  trader,  the 
broken  author,  or  rather  book-maker,  and  the  laughed-down  single 
speech  spouter  of  the  House  of  Commons,  may  look  forward, 
always  supposing  that  at  one  time  he  has  been  a  foaming  radical, 
to  the  government  of  an  important  colony.  Ay,  an  ancient  fox 
who  has  lost  his  tail  may,  provided  he  has  a  score  of  radical 

1  MS.  (corrected)  :— 

Un  Erajai 

Sinaba  chibando  un  serm6n ; 

Y  lie  falta  un  balichd 

Al  chindoma  de  aquel  gao  ; 

Y  chanela  que  los  cates 

Lo  habfan  nicobdo  ; 

Y  peneld  '1  erajai : 

"  Chabord  ! 

Gufllate  d  tu  quer, 

Y  nicobe"la  la  pirf 

Que  terela  '1  balichd, 

Y  cbibela  andr6 

Una  lima  de  tun  chaborf, 

Chabori, 

Una  lima  de  tun  chaborf." 
See  also  Lavo-Lil,  p.  200. 


314  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  IL 

friends,  who  will  swear  that  he  can  bark  Chinese,  though  Chinese 
is  not  barked  but  sung,  be  forced  upon  a  Chinese  colony,  though 
it  is  well  known  that  to  have  lost  one's  tail,  is  considered  by  the 
Chinese  in  general  as  an  irreparable  infamy,  whilst  to  have  been 
once  connected  with  a  certain  society,  to  which,  to  its  honour  be 
it  said,  all  the  radical  party  are  vehemently  hostile,  would  be  quite 
sufficient  to  keep  any  one  not  only  from  a  government,  but  some- 
thing much  less,  even  though  he  could  translate  the  rhymed 
Sessions  of  Hariri,  and  were  versed,  still  retaining  his  tail,  in  the 
two  languages  in  which  Kien-Loung  wrote  his  Eulogium  on 
Moukden,  that  piece  which,  translated  by  Amyot,  the  learned 
Jesuit,  won  the  applause  of  the  celebrated  Voltaire. 

No  !  were  the  author  influenced  by  hopes  of  fee  or  reward,  he 
would,  instead  of  writing  against  Popery,  write  for  it ;  all  the 
trumpery  titled — he  will  not  call  them  great  again — would  then 
be  for  him,  and  their  masters  the  radicals,  with  their  hosts  of  news- 
papers, would  be  for  him,  more  especially  if  he  would  commence 
maligning  the  society  whose  colours  he  had  once  on  his  hat — a 
society  which,  as  the  priest  says  in  the  text,  is  one  of  the  very  few 
Protestant  institutions  for  which  the  Popish  Church  entertains 
any  fear,  and  consequently  respect,  as  it  respects  nothing  which 
it  does  not  fear.  The  writer  said  that  certain  "  rulers  "  would 
never  forgive  him  for  having  been  connected  with  that  society; 
he  went  perhaps  too  far  in  saying  "never".  It  is  probable  that 
they  would  take  him  into  favour  on  one  condition,  which  is,  that 
he  should  turn  his  pen  and  his  voice  against  that  society;  such  a 
mark  "of  a  better  way  of  thinking,"  would  perhaps  induce  them 
to  give  him  a  government,  nearly  as  good  as  that  which  they  gave 
to  a  certain  ancient  radical  fox  at  the  intercession  of  his  radical 
friends  (who  were  bound  to  keep  him  from  the  pauper's  kennel), 
after  he  had  promised  to  foam,  bark  and  snarl  at  corruption  no 
more ;  he  might  even  entertain  hopes  of  succeeding,  nay,  of  super- 
seding, the  ancient  creature  in  his  government ;  but  even  were  he 
as  badly  off  as  he  is  well  off,  he  would  do  no  such  thing.  He 
would  rather  exist  on  crusts  and  water;  he  has  often  done  so, 
and  been  happy ;  nay,  he  would  rather  starve  than  be  a  rogue — 
for  even  the  feeling  of  starvation  is  happiness  compared  with  what 
he  feels  who  knows  himself  to  be  a  rogue,  provided  he  has  any 
feeling  at  all.  What  is  the  use  of  a  mitre  or  knighthood  to  a 
man  who  has  betrayed  his  principles  ?  What  is  the  use  of  a  gilt 
collar,  nay,  even  of  a  pair  of  scarlet  breeches,  to  a  fox  who  has 
lost  his  tail  ?  Oh !  the  horror  which  haunts  the  mind  of  the  fox 
who  has  lost  his  tail ;  and  with  reason,  for  his  very  mate  loathes 


i854-]  APPENDIX.  3*5 

him  and  more  especially  if,  like  himself,  she  has  lost  her  brush. 
Oh  !  the  horror  which  haunts  the  mind  of  the  two-legged  rogue 
who  has  parted  with  his  principles,  or  those  which  he  professed 
— for  what  ?  We'll  suppose  a  government.  What's  the  use  of  a 
government,  if,  the  next  day  after  you  have  received  it,  you  are 
obliged  for  very  shame  to  scurry  off  to  it  with  the  hoot  of  every 
honest  man  sounding  in  your  ears  ? 

"  Lightly  liar  leaped  and  away  ran." 

— PIERS  PLOWMAN. 

But  bigotry,  it  has  been  said,  makes  the  author  write  against 
Popery ;  and  thorough-going  bigotry,  indeed,  will  make  a  person 
say  or  do  anything.  But  the  writer  is  a  very  pretty  bigot  truly ! 
Where  will  the  public  find  traces  of  bigotry  in  anything  he  has 
written?  He  has  written  against  Rome  with  all  his  heart,  with 
all  his  mind,  with  all  his  soul,  and  with  all  his  strength ;  but  as  a 
person  may  be  quite  honest,  and  speak  and  write  against  Rome, 
in  like  manner  he  may  speak  and  write  against  her,  and  be  quite 
free  from  bigotry ;  though  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  but  a  bigot 
or  a  bad  man  to  write  or  speak  in  her  praise;  her  doctrines, 
actions  and  machinations  being  what  they  are. 

Bigotry  !  The  author  was  born,  and  has  always  continued,  in 
the  wrong  Church  for  bigotry,  the  quiet,  unpretending  Church  of 
England;  a  Church  which,  had  it  been  a  bigoted  Church,  and  not 
long  suffering  almost  to  a  fault,  might  with  its  opportunities,  as 
the  priest  says  in  the  text,  have  stood  in  a  very  different  position 
from  that  which  it  occupies  at  present.  No  !  let  those  who  are 
in  search  of  bigotry,  seek  for  it  in  a  Church  very  different  from 
the  inoffensive  Church  of  England,  which  never  encourages 
cruelty  or  calumny.  Let  them  seek  for  it  amongst  the  members 
of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  more  especially  amongst  those  who 
have  renegaded  to  it.  There  is  nothing,  however  false  and 
horrible,  which  a  pervert  to  Rome  will  not  say  for  his  Church,  and 
which  his  priests  will  not  encourage  him  in  saying ;  and  there  is 
nothing,  however  horrible — the  more  horrible  indeed  and  revolting 
to  human  nature,  the  more  eager  he  would  be  to  do  it — which  he  will 
not  do  for  it  and  which  his  priests  will  not  encourage  him  in  doing. 

Of  the  readiness  which  converts  to  Popery  exhibit  to  sacrifice 
all  the  ties  of  blood  and  affection  on  the  shrine  of  their  newly- 
adopted  religion,  there  is  a  curious  illustration  in  the  work  of 
Luigi  Pulci.  This  man,  who  was  born  in  Florence  in  the  year 
1432,  and  who  was  deeply  versed  in  the  Bible,  composed  a  poem, 
called  the  Morgante  Maggiore,  which  he  recited  at  the  table  of 


3i6  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  ii. 

Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  the  great  patron  of  Italian  genius.  It  is  a 
mock-heroic  and  religious  poem,  in  which  the  legends  of  knight- 
errantry,  and  of  the  Popish  Church,  are  turned  to  unbounded 
ridicule.  The  pretended  hero  of  it  is  a  converted  giant,  called 
Morgante;  though  his  adventures  do  not  occupy  the  twentieth 
part  of  the  poem,  the  principal  personages  being  Charlemagne, 
Orlando,  and  his  cousin  Rinaldo  of  Montalban.  Morgante  has 
two  brothers,  both  of  them  giants,  and  in  the  first  canto  of  the 
poem,  Morgante  is  represented  with  his  brothers  as  carrying  on  a 
feud  with  the  abbot  and  monks  of  a  certain  convent,  built  upon 
the  confines  of  heathenesse;  the  giants  being  in  the  habit  of 
flinging  down  stones,  or  rather  huge  rocks,  on  the  convent. 
Orlando,  however,  who  is  banished  from  the  court  of  Charlemagne, 
arriving  at  the  convent,  undertakes  to  destroy  them,  and,  accord- 
ingly, kills  Passamonte  and  Alabastro,  and  converts  Morgante, 
whose  mind  had  been  previously  softened  by  a  vision,  in  which 
the  "  Blessed  Virgin"  figures.  No  sooner  is  he  converted  than,  as 
a  sign  of  his  penitence,  what  does  he  do,  but  hastens  and  cuts  off 
the  hands  of  his  two  brothers,  saying — 

"  Io  vo'  tagliar  le  mani  a  tutti  quanti 
E  por terolle  a  que'  monaci  santi  'V 

And  he  does  cut  off  the  hands  of  his  brethren,  and  carries 
them  to  the  abbot,  who  blesses  him  for  so  doing.  Pulci  here  is 
holding  up  to  ridicule  and  execration  the  horrid  butchery  or 
betrayal  of  friends  by  popish  converts,  and  the  encouragement 
they  receive  from  the  priest.  No  sooner  is  a  person  converted  to 
Popery,  than  his  principal  thought  is  how  he  can  bring  the  hands 
anjd  feet  of  his  brethren,  however  harmless  they  may  be,  and 
different  from  the  giants,  to  the  "holy  priests,"  who,  if  he 
manages  to  do  so.  never  fail  to  praise  him,  saying  to  the  miserable 
wretch,  as  the  abbot  said  to  Morgante  : — 

"  Tu  sarai  or  perfetto  e  vero  amico 
A  Cristo,  quanto  tu  gll  eri  nemico  ".3 

Can  the  English  public  deny  the  justice  of  Pulci's  illustration, 
after  something  which  it  has  lately  witnessed  ?  Has  it  not  seen 
equivalents  for  the  hands  and  feet  of  brothers  carried  by  popish 
perverts  to  the  "holy  priests,"  and  has  it  not  seen  the  manner  in 
which  the  offering  has  been  received?  Let  those  who  are  in 
quest  of  Bigotry  seek  for  it  among  the  perverts  to  Rome,  and  not 
amongst  those  who,  born  in  the  pale  of  the  Church  of  England, 
have  always  continued  in  it 

i  Canto  i,  st.  53.  a  St.  57. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON  FOREIGN  NONSENSE. 

WITH  respect  to  the  third  point,  various  lessons  which  the  book 
reads  to  the  nation  at  large,  and  which  it  would  be  well  for  the 
nation  to  ponder  and  profit  by. 

There  are  many  species  of  nonsense  to  which  the  nation  is 
much  addicted,  and  of  which  the  perusal  of  Lavengro  ought  to 
give  them  a  wholesome  shame.  First  of  all,  with  respect  to  the 
foreign  nonsense  so  prevalent  now  in  England.  The  hero  is  a 
scholar ;  but,  though  possessed  of  a  great  many  tongues,  he  affects 
to  be  neither  Frenchman,  nor  German,  nor  this  or  that  foreigner ; 
he  is  one  who  loves  his  country,  and  the  language  and  literature 
of  his  country,  and  speaks  up  for  each  and  all  when  there  is 
occasion  to  do  so.  Now  what  is  the  case  with  nine  out  of  ten 
amongst  those  of  the  English  who  study  foreign  languages  ?  No 
sooner  have  they  picked  up  a  smattering  of  this  or  that  speech 
than  they  begin  to  abuse  their  own  country,  and  everything  con- 
nected with  it,  more  especially  its  language.  This  is  particularly 
the  case  with  those  who  call  themselves  German  students.  It  is 
said,  and  the  writer  believes  with  truth,  that  when  a  woman  falls  in 
love  with  a  particularly  ugly  fellow,  she  squeezes  him  with  ten 
times  more  zest  than  she  would  a  handsome  one,  if  captivated  by 
him.  So  it  is  with  these  German  students  ;  no  sooner  have  they 
taken  German  in  hand  than  there  is  nothing  like  German.  Oh, 
the  dear,  delightful  German  !  How  proud  I  am  that  it  is  now  my 
own,  and  that  its  divine  literature  is  within  my  reach !  And  all 
this  whilst  mumbling  the  most  uncouth  speech,  and  crunching  the 
most  crabbed  literature  in  Europe.  The  writer  is  not  an  exclusive 
admirer  of  everything  English ;  he  does  not  advise  his  country 
people  never  to  go  abroad,  never  to  study  foreign  languages,  and 
he  does  not  wish  to  persuade  them  that  there  is  nothing  beautiful 
or  valuable  in  foreign  literature ;  he  only  wishes  that  they  would 
not  make  themselves  fools  with  respect  to  foreign  people,  foreign 
languages  or  reading ;  that  if  they  chance  to  have  been  in  Spain, 
and  have  picked  up  a  little  Spanish,  they  would  not  affect  the  airs 
of  Spaniards ;  that  if  males  they  would  not  make  Tom-fools  of 
themselves  by  sticking  cigars  into  their  mouths,  dressing  them- 


3i8  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  in. 

selve  in  zamarras,  and  saying,  carajo  I  *  and  if  females  that  they 
would  not  make  zanies  of  themselves  by  sticking  cigars  into  their 
mouths,  flinging  mantillas  over  their  heads,  and  by  saying  carai, 
and  perhaps  carajo  too ;  or  if  they  have  been  in  France  or  Italy, 
and  have  picked  up  a  little  French  or  Italian,  they  would  not 
affect  to  be  French  or  Italians  ;  and  particularly,  after  having  been 
a  month  or  two  in  Germany,  or  picked  up  a  little  German  in 
England,  they  would  not  make  themselves  foolish  about  every- 
thing German,  as  the  Anglo-German  in  the  book  does — a  real 
character,  the  founder  of  the  Anglo-German  school  in  England, 
and  the  cleverest  Englishman  who  ever  talked  or  wrote  encomiastic 
nonsense  about  Germany  and  the  Germans.  Of  all  infatuations 
connected  with  what  is  foreign,  the  infatuation  about  everything 
that  is  German,  to  a  certain  extent  prevalent  in  England,  is 
assuredly  the  most  ridiculous.  One  can  find  something  like  a 
palliation  for  people  making  themselves  somewhat  foolish  about 
particular  languages,  literatures  and  people.  The  Spanish  cer- 
tainly is  a  noble  language,  and  there  is  something  wild  and 
captivating  in  the  Spanish  character,  and  its  literature  contains 
the  grand  book  of  the  world.  French  is  a  manly  language.  The 
French  are  the  great  martial  people  in  the  world;  and  French 
literature  is  admirable  in  many  respects.  Italian  is  a  sweet 
language,  and  of  beautiful  simplicity — its  literature  perhaps  the 
first  in  the  world.  The  Italians  ! — wonderful  men  have  sprung  up 
in  Italy.  Italy  is  not  merely  famous  for  painters,  poets,  musicians, 
singers  and  linguists — the  greatest  linguist  the  world  ever  saw, 
the  late  Cardinal  Mezzofanti,  was  an  Italian ;  but  it  is  celebrated 
for  men — men  emphatically  speaking :  Columbus  was  an  Italian, 
Alexander  Farnese  was  an  Italian,  so  was  the  mightiest  of  the 
mighty,  Napoleon  Bonaparte ;  but  the  German  language,  German 
literature,  and  the  Germans !  The  writer  has  already  stated  his 
opinion  with  respect  to  German ;  he  does  not  speak  from  ignor- 
ance or  prejudice  ;  he  has  heard  German  spoken,  and  many  other 
languages.  German  literature !  He  does  not  speak  from  ignor- 
ance, he  has  read  that  and  many  a  literature,  and  he  repeats 

however,  he  acknowledges  that  there  is  one  fine  poem  in  the 
German  language,  that  poem  is  the  Oberon;  a  poem,  by-the- 
bye,  ignored  by  the  Germans — a  speaking  fact — and  of  course,  by 
the  Anglo-Germanists.  The  Germans !  he  has  been  amongst 
them,  and  amongst  many  other  nations,  and  confesses  that  his 
opinion  of  the  Germans,  as  men,  is  a  very  low  one.  Germany,  it 

*  An  obscene  oath. 


1854.]  APPENDIX  319 

is  true,  has  produced  one  very  great  man,  the  monk  who  fought 
the  Pope,  and  nearly  knocked  him  down;  but  this  man  his 
country-men — a  telling  fact — affect  to  despise,  and,  of  course,  the 
Anglo-Germanists  :  the  father  of  Anglo-Germanism  was  very  fond 
of  inveighing  against  Luther. 

The  madness,  or  rather  foolery,  of  the  English  for  foreign 
customs,  dresses  and  languages,  is  not  an  affair  of  to-day,  or 
yesterday — it  is  of  very  ancient  date,  and  was  very  properly  ex- 
posed nearly  three  centuries  ago  by  one  Andrew  Borde,  who 
under  the  picture  of  a  "  Naked  man,  with  a  pair  of  shears  in  one 
hand,  and  a  roll  of  cloth  in  the  other,"  inserted  the  following 
lines  along  with  others  : —  * 

I  am  an  Englishman,  and  naked  I  stand  here, 
Musing  in  my  mind  what  garment  I  shall  weare  ; 
For  now  I  will  weare  this,  and  now  I  will  weare  that, 
Now  I  will  weare,  I  cannot  tell  what. 
All  new  fashions  be  pleasant  to  mee, 
I  will  have  them,  whether  I  thrive  or  thee ; 
What  do  I  care  if  all  the  world  me  fail  ? 
I  will  have  a  garment  [shall]  reach  to  my  taile ; 
Then  am  I  a  minion,  for  I  weare  the  new  guise. 
The  next  yeare  after  I  hope  to  be  wise, 
Not  only  in  wearing  my  gorgeous  array, 
For  I  will  go  to  learning  a  whole  summer's  day , 
I  will  learn  Latine,  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  French, 
And  I  will  learn  Dutch,  sitting  on  my  bench. 
I  had  no  peere  if  to  myself  I  were  true, 
Because  I  am  not  so,  divers  times  do  I  rue. 
Yet  I  lacke  nothing,  I  have  all  things  at  will 
If  I  were  wise  and  would  hold  myself  still, 
And  meddle  with  no  matters  but  to  me  pertaining, 
But  ever  to  be  true  to  God  and  my  King. 
But  I  have  such  matters  rowling  in  my  pate, 
That  I  will  and  do I  cannot  tell  what,  etc. 

*See  Muses'  Library^  pp.  86,  87.     London,  1738.     [Better,  the  original  ed. 
(1547). 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON  GENTILITY  NONSENSE. 

WHAT  is  gentility?  People  in  different  stations  in  England 
entertain  different  ideas  of  what  is  genteel,*  but  it  must  be  some- 
thing gorgeous,  glittering  or  tawdry,  to  be  considered  genteel  by 
any  of  them.  The  beau-ideal  of  the  English  aristocracy,  of 
course  with  some  exceptions,  is  some  young  fellow  with  an  im- 
perial title,  a  military  personage  of  course,  for  what  is  military  is 
so  particularly  genteel,  with  flaming  epaulets,  a  cocked  hat  and 
plume,  a  prancing  charger,  and  a  band  of  fellows  called  generals 
and  colonels,  with  flaming  epaulets,  cocked  hats  and  plumes,  and 
prancing  chargers  vapouring  behind  him.  It  was  but  lately  that 
the  daughter  of  an  English  marquis  was  heard  to  say,  that  the  sole 
remaining  wish  of  her  heart — she  had  known  misfortunes,  and 
was  not  far  from  fifty — was  to  be  introduced  to — whom?  The 
Emperor  of  Austria  !  The  sole  remaining  wish  of  the  heart  of  one 
who  ought  to  have  been  thinking  of  the  grave  and  judgment,  was 
to  be  introduced  to  the  miscreant  who  had  caused  the  blood  of 
noble  Hungarian  females  to  be  whipped  out  of  their  shoulders, 
for  no  other  crime  than  devotion  to  their  country,  and  its  tall  and 
heroic  sons.  The  middle  classes — of  course  there  are  some  ex- 
ceptions— admire  the  aristocracy,  and  consider  them  pinks,  the 

*  Genteel  with  them  seems  to  be  synonymous  with  Gentile  and  Gentoo  ;  if  so, 
the  manner  in  which  it  has  been  applied  for  ages  ceases  to  surprise,  for  genteel  is 
heathenish.  Ideas  of  barbaric  pearl  and  gold,  glittering  armour,  plumes,  tortures, 
blood-shedding,  and  lust,  should  always  be  connected  with  it.  Wace,  in  his  grand 
Norman  poem,  calls  the  Baron  Genteel : — 

"La  furent  li  gentil  Baron,"  etc. 

And  he  certainly  could  not  have  applied  the  word  better  than  to  the  strong  Norman 
thief,  armed  cap-a-pie  without  one  particle  of  ruth  or  generosity  ;  for  a  person  to 
be  a  pink  of  gentility,  that  is  heathenism,  should  have  no  such  feelings;  and, 
indeed,  the  admirers  of  gentility  seldom  or  never  associate  any  such  feelings  with  it. 
It  was  from  the  Norman,  the  worst  of  all  robbers  and  miscreants,  who  built  strong 
castles,  garrisoned  them  with  devils,  and  tore  out  poor  wretches'  eyes,  as  the 
Saxon  Chronicle  says,  that  the  English  got  their  detestable  word  genteel.  What 
could  ever  have  made  the  English  such  admirers  of  gentility,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say ;  for,  during  three  hundred  years,  they  suffered  enough  by  it.  Their  genteel 
Norman  landlords  were  their  scourgers,  their  torturers,  the  plunderers  of  their 
homes,  the  dishonourers  of  their  wives,  and  the  deflourers  of  their  daughters. 
Perhaps  after  all,  fear  is  at  the  root  of  the  English  veneration  for  gentility. 

(320) 


1854.]  APPENDIX,  331 

aristocracy  who  admire  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  adored  the 
Emperor  of  Russia,  till  he  became  old,  ugly  and  unfortunate, 
when  their  adoration  instantly  terminated ;  for  what  is  more  un- 
genteel  than  age,  ugliness  and  misfortune !  The  beau-ideal  with 
those  of  the  lower  classes,  with  peasants  and  mechanics,  is  some 
flourishing  railroad  contractor:  look,  for  example,  how  they 
worship  Mr.  Flamson.  This  person  makes  his  grand  d£but  in 
the  year  'thirty-nine,  at  a  public  meeting  in  the  principal  room  of 
a  country  inn.  He  has  come  into  the  neighbourhood  with  the 
character  of  a  man  worth  a  million  pounds,  who  is  to  make  every- 
body's fortune ;  at  this  time,  however,  he  is  not  worth  a  shilling 
of  his  own,  though  he  flashes  about  dexterously  three  or  four 
thousand  pounds,  part  of  which  sum  he  has  obtained  by  specious 
pretences,  and  part  from  certain  individuals  who  are  his  con- 
federates. But  in  the  year  'forty-nine,  he  is  really  in  possession 
of  the  fortune  which  he  and  his  agents  pretended  he  was  worth  ten 
years  before — he  is  worth  a  million  pounds.  By  what  means  has 
he  come  by  them?  By  railroad  contracts,  for  which  he  takes 
care  to  be  paid  in  hard  cash  before  he  attempts  to  perform  them, 
and  to  carry  out  which  he  makes  use  of  the  sweat  and  blood  of 
wretches  who,  since  their  organisation,  have  introduced  crimes 
and  language  into  England  to  which  it  was  previously  almost  a 
stranger — by  purchasing,  with  paper,  shares  by  hundreds  in  the 
schemes  to  execute  which  he  contracts,  and  which  are  of  his  own 
devising;  which  shares  he  sells  as  soon  as  they  are  at  a  high 
premium,  to  which  they  are  speedily  forced  by  means  of  paragraphs, 
inserted  by  himself  and  agents,  in  newspapers  devoted  to  his 
interest,  utterly  reckless  of  the  terrible  depreciation  to  which  they 
are  almost  instantly  subjected.  But  he  is  worth  a  million  pounds, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact — he  has  not  made  people's 
fortunes,  at  least  those  whose  fortunes  it  was  said  he  would  make  ; 
he  has  made  them  away ;  but  his  own  he  has  made,  emphatically 
made  it;  he  is  worth  a  million  pounds.  Hurrah  for  the 
millionnaire !  The  clown  who  views  the  pandemonium  of  red 
brick  which  he  has  built  on  the  estate  which  he  has  purchased  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  place  of  his  grand  debut  in  which  every 
species  of  architecture,  Greek,  Indian  and  Chinese,  is  employed 
in  caricature — who  hears  of  the  grand  entertainment  he  gives  at 
Christmas  in  the  principal  dining-room,  the  hundred  wax-candles, 
the  waggon-load  of  plate,  and  the  oceans  of  wine  which  form  parts 
of  it,  and  above  all  the  two  ostrich  poults,  one  at  the  head,  and 
the  other  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  exclaims :  "  Well !  if  he  a'n't 
bang  up,  I  don't  know  who  be ;  why  he  beats  my  lord  hollow ! " 

21 


322  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  iv. 

The  mechanic  of  the  borough  town,  who  sees  him  dashing  through 
the  streets  in  an  open  landau,  drawn  by  four  milk-white  horses, 
amidst  its  attendant  out-riders ;  his  wife,  a  monster  of  a  woman, 
by  his  side,  stout  as  the  wife  of  Tamerlane,  who  weighed  twenty 
stone,  and  bedizened  out  like  her  whose  person  shone  with  the 
jewels  of  plundered  Persia,  stares  with  silent  wonder,  and  at  last 
exclaims:  "That's  the  man  for  my  vote!"  You  tell  the  clown 
that  the  man  of  the  mansion  has  contributed  enormously  to  cor- 
rupt the  rural  innocence  of  England ;  you  point  to  an  incipient 
branch  railroad,  from  around  which  the  accents  of  Gomorrah  are 
sounding,  and  beg  him  to  listen  for  a  moment,  and  then  close  his 
ears.  Hodge  scratches  his  head  and  says  :  "  Well,  I  have  nothing 
to  say  to  that ;  all  I  known  is  that  he  is  bang  up,  and  I  wish  I 
were  he  "  ;  perhaps  he  will  add — a  Hodge  has  been  known  to  add 
— "  He  has  been  kind  enough  to  put  my  son  on  that  very  rail- 
road ;  'tis  true  the  company  is  somewhat  queer,  and  the  work 
rather  killing,  but  he  gets  there  half  a  crown  a  day,  whereas  from 
the  farmers  he  would  only  get  eighteenpence."  You  remind  the 
mechanic  that  the  man  in  the  landau  has  been  the  ruin  of  thou- 
sands, and  you  mention  people  whom  he  himself  knows,  people 
in  various  grades  of  life,  widows  and  orphans  amongst  them, 
whose  little  all  he  has  dissipated,  and  whom  he  has  reduced  to 
beggary  by  inducing  them  to  become  sharers  in  his  delusive 
schemes.  But  the  mechanic  says  :  "  Well,  the  more  fools  they  to 
let  themselves  be  robbed.  But  I  don't  call  that  kind  of  thing 
robbery,  I  merely  call  it  out-witting ;  and  everybody  in  this  free 
country  has  a  right  to  outwit  others  if  he  can.  What  a  turn-out 
he  has  ! "  One  was  once  heard  to  add  :  "I  never  saw  a  more 
genteel-looking  man  in  all  my  life  except  one,  and  that  was  a 
gentleman's  walley,  who  was  much  like  him.  It  is  true  he  is 
rather  undersized,  but  then,  madam,  you  know,  makes  up  for  all." 


CHAPTER  V. 

SUBJECT  OF  GENTILITY  CONTINUED. 

IN  the  last  chapter  have  been  exhibited  specimens  of  gentility,  so 
considered  by  different  classes ;  by  one  class,  power,  youth  and 
epaulets  are  considered  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  gentility ;  by  another 
class,  pride,  stateliness  and  title ;  by  another,  wealth  and  flaming 
tawdriness.  But  what  constitutes  a  gentleman?  It  is  easy  to 
say  at  once  what  constitutes  a  gentleman,  and  there  are  no 
distinctions  in  what  is  gentlemanly,*  as  there  are  in  what  is  genteel. 
The  characteristics  of  a  gentleman  are  high  feeling — a  determina- 
tion never  to  take  a  cowardly  advantage  of  another — a  liberal 
education — absence  of  narrow  views — generosity  and  courage, 
propriety  of  behaviour.  Now  a  person  may  be  genteel  according 
to  one  or  another  of  the  three  standards  described  above,  and 
not  possess  one  of  the  characteristics  of  a  gentleman.  Is  the 
emperor  a  gentleman,  with  spatters  of  blood  on  his  clothes, 
scourged  from  the  backs  of  noble  Hungarian  women  ?  Are  the 
aristocracy  gentlefolks,  who  admire  him  ?  Is  Mr.  Flamson  a 
gentleman,  although  he  has  a  million  pounds  ?  No  !  cowardly 
miscreants,  admirers  of  cowardly  miscreants,  and  people  who 
make  a  million  pounds  by  means  compared  with  which  those 
employed  to  make  fortunes  by  the  getters  up  of  the  South  Sea 
Bubble  might  be  called  honest  dealing,  are  decidedly  not  gentle- 
folks. Now  as  it  is  clearly  demonstrable  that  a  person  may  be 
perfectly  genteel  according  to  some  standard  or  other,  and  yet  be 
no  gentleman,  so  is  it  demonstrable  that  a  person  may  have  no 
pretensions  to  gentility,  and  yet  be  a  gentleman.  For  example, 
there  is  Lavengro !  Would  the  admirers  of  the  emperor,  or  the 
admirers  of  those  who  admire  the  emperor,  or  the  admirers  of 
Mr.  Flamson,  call  him  genteel  ?  and  gentility  with  them  is  every- 
thing !  Assuredly  they  would  not ;  and  assuredly  they  would 
consider  him  respectively  as  a  being  to  be  shunned,  despised,  or 

*  Gentle  and  gentlemanly  may  be  derived  from  the  same  root  as  genteel ;  but 
nothing  can  be  more  distinct  from  the  mere  genteel,  than  the  ideas  which  enlight- 
ened minds  associate  with  these  words.  Gentle  and  gentlemanly  mean  something 
kind  and  genial ;  genteel,  that  which  is  glittering  or  gaudy.  A  person  can  be  a 
gentleman  in  rags,  but  nobody  can  be  genteel. 

(323) 


324  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  v. 

hooted.  Genteel !  Why  at  one  time  he  is  a  hack  author — writes 
reviewals  for  eighteenpence  a  page — edits  a  Newgate  chronicle. 
At  another  he  wanders  the  country  with  a  face  grimy  from 
occasionally  mending  kettles ;  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  his 
clothes  are  not  seedy  and  torn,  and  his  shoes  down  at  the  heel ; 
but  by  what  process  of  reasoning  will  they  prove  that  he  is  no 
gentleman?  Is  he  not  learned?  Has  he  not  generosity  and 
courage?  Whilst  a  hack  author,  does  he  pawn  the  books  en- 
trusted to  him  to  review  ?  Does  he  break  his  word  to  his  publisher  ? 
Does  he  write  begging  letters  ?  Does  he  get  clothes  or  lodgings 
without  paying  for  them?  Again,  whilst  a  wanderer,  does  he 
insult  helpless  women  on  the  road  with  loose  proposals  or  ribald 
discourse?  Does  he  take  what  is  not  his  own  from  the  hedges  ? 
Does  he  play  on  the  fiddle,  or  make  faces  in  public-houses,  in 
order  to  obtain  pence  or  beer  ?  or  does  he  call  for  liquor,  swallow 
it,  and  then  say  to  a  widowed  landlady,  "  Mistress,  I  have  no 
brass?"  In  a  word,  what  vice  and  crime  does  he  perpetrate — 
what  low  acts  does  he  commit?  Therefore,  with  his  endowments, 
who  will  venture  to  say  that  he  is  no  gentleman  ? — unless  it  be  an 
admirer  of  Mr.  Flamson — a  clown — who  will,  perhaps,  shout : 
"I  say  he  is  no  gentleman ;  for  who  can  be  a  gentleman  who 
keeps  no  gig?" 

The  indifference  exhibited  by  Lavengro  for  what  is  merely 
genteel,  compared  with  his  solicitude  never  to  infringe  the  strict 
laws  of  honour,  should  read  a  salutary  lesson.  The  generality  of 
his  countrymen  are  far  more  careful  not  to  transgress  the  customs 
of  what  they  call  gentility,  than  to  violate  the  laws  of  honour  or 
morality.  They  will  shrink  from  carrying  their  own  carpet-bag, 
and  from  speaking  to  a  person  in  seedy  raiment,  whilst  to  matters 
of  much  higher  importance  they  are  shamelessly  indifferent.  Not 
so  Lavengro ;  he  will  do  anything  that  he  deems  convenient,  or 
which  strikes  his  fancy,  provided  it  does  not  outrage  decency,  or 
is  unallied  to  profligacy ;  is  not  ashamed  to  speak  to  a  beggar  in 
rags,  and  will  associate  with  anybody,  provided  he  can  gratify  a 
laudable  curiosity.  He  has  no  abstract  love  for  what  is  low,  or 
what  the  world  calls  low.  He  sees  that  many  things  which  the 
world  looks  down  upon  are  valuable,  so  he  prizes  much  which 
the  world  contemns;  he  sees  that  many  things  which  the  world 
admires  are  contemptible,  so  he  despises  much  which  the  world 
does  not ;  but  when  the  world  prizes  what  is  really  excellent,  he 
does  not  contemn  it,  because  the  world  regards  it.  If  he  learns 
Irish,  which  all  the  world  scoffs  at,  he  likewise  learns  Italian, 
which  all  the  world  melts  at.  If  he  learns  Gypsy,  the  language 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  3*5 

of  the  tattered  tent,  he  likewise  learns  Greek,  the  language  of  the 
college  hall.  If  he  learns  smithery,  he  also  learns — ah !  what 
does  he  learn  to  set  against  smithery? — the  law?  No;  he  does 
not  learn  the  law,  which,  by  the  way,  is  not  very  genteel.  Swim- 
ming? Yes,  he  learns  to  swim.  Swimming,  however,  is  not 
genteel ;  and  the  world — at  least  the  genteel  part  of  it — acts  very 
wisely  in  setting  its  face  against  it ;  for  to  swim  you  must  be 
naked,  and  how  would  many  a  genteel  person  look  without 
his  clothes  ?  Come,  he  learns  horsemanship ;  a  very  genteel 
accomplishment,  which  every  genteel  person  would  gladly  possess, 
though  not  all  genteel  people  do. 

Again  as  to  associates :  if  he  holds  communion  when  a  boy 
with  Murtagh,  the  scarecrow  of  an  Irish  academy,  he  associates 
in  after  life  with  Francis  Ardry,  a  rich  and  talented  young  Irish 
gentleman  about  town.  If  he  accepts  an  invitation  from  Mr. 
Petulengro  to  his  tent,  he  has  no  objection  to  go  home  with  a 
rich  genius  to  dinner ;  who  then  will  say  that  he  prizes  a  thing  or 
a  person  because  they  are  ungenteel  ?  That  he  is  not  ready  to 
take  up  with  everything  that  is  ungenteel  he  gives  a  proof,  when 
he  refuses,  though  on  the  brink  of  starvation,  to  become  bonnet 
to  the  thimble-man,  an  office,  which,  though  profitable,  is  posi- 
tively ungenteel.  Ah !  but  some  sticker-up  for  gentility  will 
exclaim :  "  The  hero  did  not  refuse  this  office  from  an  insur- 
mountable dislike  to  its  ungentility,  but  merely  from  a  feeling  of 
principle  ".  Well !  the  writer  is  not  fond  of  argument,  and  he  will 
admit  that  such  was  the  case;  he  admits  that  it  was  a  love  of 
principle,  rather  than  an  over-regard  for  gentility,  which  prevented 
the  hero  from  accepting,  when  on  the  brink  of  starvation,  an 
ungenteel  though  lucrative  office,  an  office  which,  the  writer  begs 
leave  to  observe,  many  a  person  with  a  great  regard  for  gentility, 
and  no  particular  regard  for  principle,  would  in  a  similar  strait 
have  accepted ;  for  when  did  a  mere  love  for  gentility  keep  a  per- 
son from  being  a  dirty  scoundrel,  when  the  alternatives  apparently 
were  "  either  be  a  dirty  scoundrel  or  starve  ?  "  One  thing,  how- 
ever, is  certain,  which  is,  that  Lavengro  did  not  accept  the  office, 
which  if  a  love  for  what  is  low  had  been  his  ruling  passion  he 
certainly  would  have  done;  consequently,  he  refuses  to  do  one 
thing  which  no  genteel  person  would  willingly  do,  even  as  he 
does  many  things  which  every  genteel  person  would  gladly  do, 
for  example,  speaks  Italian,  rides  on  horseback,  associates  with 
a  fashionable  young  man,  dines  with  a  rich  genius,  et  cetera. 
Yet — and  it  cannot  be  minced — he  and  gentility  with  regard  to  many 
things  are  at  strange  divergency ;  he  shrinks  from  many  things 


APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  v. 


at  which  gentility  placidly  hums  a  tune,  or  approvingly  simpers, 
and  does  some  things  at  which  gentility  positively  shrinks.  He 
will  not  run  into  debt  for  clothes  or  lodgings,  which  he  might  do 
without  any  scandal  to  gentility  ;  he  will  not  receive  money  from 
Francis  Ardry,  and  go  to  Brighton  with  the  sister  of  Annette  Le 
Noir,  though  there  is  nothing  ungenteel  in  borrowing  money 
from  a  friend,  even  when  you  never  intend  to  repay  him,  and 
something  poignantly  genteel  in  going  to  a  watering-place  with 
a  gay  young  Frenchwoman  ;  but  he  has  no  objection,  after  raising 
twenty  pounds  by  the  sale  of  that  extraordinary  work  Joseph 
Sell,  to  set  off  into  the  country,  mend  kettles  under  hedge-rows, 
and  make  pony  and  donkey  shoes  in  a  dingle.  Here,  perhaps, 
some  plain,  well-meaning  person  will  cry  —  and  with  much  appar- 
ent justice  —  how  can  the  writer  justify  him  in  this  act?  What 
motive,  save  a  love  for  what  is  low,  could  induce  him  to  do  such 
things?  Would  the  writer  have  everybody  who  is  in  need  of 
recreation  go  into  the  country,  mend  kettles  under  hedges,  and 
make  pony  shoes  in  dingles  ?  To  such  an  observation  the  writer 
would  answer,  that  Lavengro  had  an  excellent  motive  in  doing 
what  he  did,  but  that  the  writer  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  to  wish 
everybody  to  do  the  same.  It  is  not  everybody  who  can  mend 
kettles.  It  is  not  everybody  who  is  in  similar  circumstances  to 
those  in  which  Lavengro  was.  Lavengro  flies  from  London  and 
hack  authorship,  and  takes  to  the  roads  from  fear  of  consumption  ; 
it  is  expensive  to  put  up  at  inns,  and  even  at  public-houses,  and 
Lavengro  has  not  much  money;  so  he  buys  a  tinker's  cart  and 
apparatus,  and  sets  up  as  tinker,  and  subsequently  as  blacksmith  ; 
a  person  living  in  a  tent,  or  in  anything  else,  must  do  something 
or  go  mad  ;  Lavengro  had  a  mind,  as  he  himself  well  knew,  with 
some  slight  tendency  to  madness,  and  had  he  not  employed 
himself,  he  must  have  gone  wild  ;  so  to  employ  himself  he  drew 
upon  one  of  his  resources,  the  only  one  available  at  the  time. 
Authorship  had  nearly  killed  him,  he  was  sick  of  reading,  and 
had  besides  no  books  ;  but  he  possessed  the  rudiments  of  an  art 
akin  to  tinkering  ;  he  knew  something  of  smithery,  having  served  a 
kind  of  apprenticeship  in  Ireland  to  a  fairy  smith  ;  so  he  draws  upon 
his  smithery  to  enable  him  to  acquire  tinkering,  and  through  the 
help  which  it  affords  him,  owing  to  its  connection  with  tinkering, 
he  speedily  acquires  that  craft,  even  as  he  had  speedily  ac- 
quired Welsh,  owing  to  its  connection  with  Irish,  which  language 
he  possessed  ;  and  with  tinkering  he  amuses  himself  until  he  lays  it 
aside  to  resume  smithery.  A  man  who  has  any  innocent  resource, 
has  quite  as  much  right  to  draw  upon  it  in  need,  as  he  has  upon 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  327 

a  banker  in  whose  hands  he  has  placed  a  sum ;  Lavengro  turns 
to  advantage,  under  particular  circumstances,  a  certain  resource 
which  he  has,  but  people  who  are  not  so  forlorn  as  Lavengro, 
and  have  not  served  the  same  apprenticeship  which  he  had,  are 
not  advised  to  follow  his  example.  Surely  he  was  better  employed 
in  plying  the  trades  of  tinker  and  smith  than  in  having  resource 
to  vice,  in  running  after  milk-maids,  for  example.  Running  after 
milk-maids  is  by  no  means  an  ungenteel  rural  diversion ;  but  let 
any  one  ask  some  respectable  casuist  (The  Bishop  of  London  for 
example),  whether  Lavengro  was  not  far  better  employed,  when 
in  the  country,  at  tinkering  and  smithery  than  he  would  have 
been  in  running  after  all  the  milk-maids  in  Cheshire,  though  tinker- 
ing is  in  general  considered  a  very  ungenteel  employment,  and 
smithery  little  better,  notwithstanding  that  an  Orcadian  poet, 
who  wrote  in  Norse  about  eight  hundred  years  ago,  reckons  the 
latter  among  nine  noble  arts  which  he  possessed,  naming  it  along 
with  playing  at  chess,  on  the  harp,  and  ravelling  runes,  or  as  the 
original  has  it,  "  treading  runes  " — that  is,  compressing  them  into 
a  small  compass  by  mingling  one  letter  with  another,  even  as  the 
Turkish  caligraphists  ravel  the  Arabic  letters,  more  especially 
those  who  write  talismans. 

Nine  arts  have  I,  all  noble ; 
I  play  at  chess  so  free, 
At  ravelling  runes  I'm  ready, 
At  books  and  smithery ; 
I'm  skill'd  o'er  ice  at  skimming 
On  skates,  I  shoot  and  row, 
And  few  at  harping  match  me, 
Or  minstrelsy,  I  trow. 

But  though  Lavengro  takes  up  smithery,  which,  though  the 
Orcadian  ranks  it  with  chess-playing  and  harping,  is  certainly 
somewhat  of  a  grimy  art,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  had  he 
been  wealthy  and  not  so  forlorn  as  he  was,  he  would  have  turned 
to  many  things,  honourable,  of  course,  in  preference.  He  has 
no  objection  to  ride  a  fine  horse  when  he  has  the  opportunity : 
he  has  his  day-dream  of  making  a  fortune  of  two  hundred 
thousand  pounds  by  becoming  a  merchant  and  doing  business 
after  the  Armenian  fashion ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he 
would  have  been  glad  to  wear  fine  clothes,  provided  he  had  had 
sufficient  funds  to  authorise  him  in  wearing  them.  For  the  sake 
of  wandering  the  country  and  plying  the  hammer  and  tongs,  he 
would  not  have  refused  a  commission  in  the  service  of  that 
illustrious  monarch  George  the  Fourth,  provided  he  had  thought 


328  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  v. 

that  he  could  live  on  his  pay,  and  not  be  forced  to  run  in  debt  to 
tradesmen,  without  any  hope  of  paying  them,  for  clothes  and 
luxuries,  as  many  highly  genteel  officers  in  that  honourable 
service  were  in  the  habit  of  doing.  For  the  sake  of  tinkering, 
he  would  certainly  not  have  refused  a  secretaryship  of  an  embassy 
to  Persia,  in  which  he  might  have  turned  his  acquaintance  with 
Persian,  Arabic,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  what  other  languages, 
to  account.  He  took  to  tinkering  and  smithery,  because  no 
better  employments  were  at  his  command.  No  war  is  waged  in 
the  book  against  rank,  wealth,  fine  clothes  or  dignified  employ- 
ments ;  it  is  shown,  however,  that  a  person  may  be  a  gentleman 
and  a  scholar  without  them.  Rank,  wealth,  fine  clothes  and 
dignified  employments,  are  no  doubt  very  fine  things,  but  they 
are  merely  externals,  they  do  not  make  a  gentleman,  they  add 
external  grace  and  dignity  to  the  gentleman  and  scholar,  but 
they  make  neither ;  and  is  it  not  better  to  be  a  gentleman  without 
them  than  not  a  gentleman  with  them?  Is  not  Lavengro,  when 
he  leaves  London  on  foot  with  twenty  pounds  in  his  pocket,  en- 
titled to  more  respect  than  Mr.  Flamson  flaming  in  his  coach  with 
a  million  ?  And  is  not  even  the  honest  jockey  at  Horncastle,  who 
offers  a  fair  price  to  Lavengro  for  his  horse,  entitled  to  more  than  the 
scoundrel  lord,  who  attempts  to  cheat  him  of  one-fourth  of  its  value. 
Millions,  however,  seem  to  think  otherwise,  by  their  servile 
adoration  of  people  whom  without  rank,  wealth  and  fine  clothes 
they  would  consider  infamous,  but  whom  possessed  of  rank,  wealth 
and  glittering  habiliments  they  seem  to  admire  all  the  more  for 
their  profligacy  and  crimes.  Does  not  a  blood-spot,  or  a  lust- 
spot,  on  the  clothes  of  a  blooming  emperor,  give  a  kind  of  zest 
to  the  genteel  young  god?  Do  not  the  pride,  superciliousness 
and  selfishness  of  a  certain  aristocracy  make  it  all  the  more  re- 
garded by  its  worshippers  ?  and  do  not  the  clownish  and  gutter- 
blood  admirers  of  Mr.  Flamson  like  him  all  the  more  because 
they  are  conscious  that  he  is  a  knave  ?  If  such  is  the  case — and 
alas  !  is  it  not  the  case  ? — they  cannot  be  too  frequently  told  that 
fine  clothes,  wealth  and  titles  adorn  a  person  in  proportion  as  he 
adorns  them ;  that  if  worn  by  the  magnanimous  and  good  they 
are  ornaments  indeed,  but  if  by  the  vile  and  profligate  they  are 
merely  san  benitos,  and  only  serve  to  make  their  infamy  doubly 
apparent ;  and  that  a  person  in  seedy  raiment  and  tattered  hat, 
possessed  of  courage,  kindness  and  virtue,  is  entitled  to  more 
respect  from  those  to  whom  his  virtues  are  manifested  than  any 
cruel  profligate  emperor,  selfish  aristocrat,  or  knavish  millionnaire 
in  the  world. 


1854.  APPENDIX.  329 

The  writer  has  no  intention  of  saying  that  all  in  England  are 
affected  with  the  absurd  mania  for  gentility ;  nor  is  such  a  state- 
ment made  in  the  book ;  it  is  shown  therein  that  individuals  of 
various  classes  can  prize  a  gentleman,  notwithstanding  seedy 
raiment,  dusty  shoes  or  tattered  hat — for  example,  the  young 
Irishman,  the  rich  genius,  the  postillion,  and  his  employer. 
Again,  when  the  life  of  the  hero  is  given  to  the  world,  amidst 
the  howl  about  its  lowness  and  vulgarity,  raised  by  the  servile 
crew  whom  its  independence  of  sentiment  has  stung,  more  than 
one  powerful  voice  has  been  heard  testifying  approbation  of  its 
learning  and  the  purity  of  its  morality.  That  there  is  some  salt 
in  England,  minds  not  swayed  by  mere  externals,  he  is  fully 
convinced ;  if  he  were  not,  he  would  spare  himself  the  trouble 
of  writing ;  but  to  the  fact  that  the  generality  of  his  countrymen 
are  basely  grovelling  before  the  shrine  of  what  they  are  pleased 
to  call  gentility,  he  cannot  shut  his  eyes. 

Oh !  what  a  clever  person  that  Cockney  was,  who,  travelling 
in  the  Aberdeen  railroad  carriage,  after  edifying  the  company 
with  his  remarks  on  various  subjects,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that 

Lieutenant  P would,  in  future,  be  shunned  by  all  respectable 

society  !  And  what  a  simple  person  that  elderly  gentleman  was, 
who,  abruptly  starting,  asked  in  rather  an  authoritative  voice, 

"And  why  should  Lieutenant  P be  shunned  by  respectable 

society?"  and  who,  after  entering  into  what  was  said  to  be  a 
masterly  analysis  of  the  entire  evidence  of  the  case,  concluded 
by  stating,  "that  having  been  accustomed  to  all  kinds  of  evidence 
all  his  life,  he  had  never  known  a  case  in  which  the  accused  had 
obtained  a  more  complete  and  triumphant  justification  than  Lieu- 
tenant P had  done  in  the  late  trial ". 

Now  the  Cockney,  who  is  said  to  have  been  a  very  foppish 
Cockney,  was  perfectly  right  in  what  he  said,  and  therein  mani- 
fested a  knowledge  of  the  English  mind  and  character,  and  likewise 
of  the  modern  English  language,  to  which  his  catechist,  who,  it 
seems,  was  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Scottish  bar,  could  lay 
no  pretensions.  The  Cockney  knew  what  the  Lord  of  Session 
knew  not,  that  the  British  public  is  gentility  crazy,  and  he  knew, 
moreover,  that  gentility  and  respectability  are  synonymous.  No 
one  in  England  is  genteel  or  respectable  that  is  "  looked  at,"  who 
is  the  victim  of  oppression  ;  he  may  be  pitied  for  a  time,  but  when 
did  not  pity  terminate  in  contempt?  A  poor  harmless  young 
officer — but  why  enter  into  the  details  of  the  infamous  case  ?  they 
are  but  too  well  known,  and  if  ever  cruelty,  pride  and  cowardice,  and 
things  much  worse  than  even  cruelty,  cowardice  and  pride  were 


330  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  V. 

brought  to  light,  and,  at  the  same  time,  countenanced,  they  were 
in  that  case.  What  availed  the  triumphant  justification  of  the 
poor  victim?  There  was  at  first  a  roar  of  indignation  against 
his  oppressors,  but  how  long  did  it  last?  He  had  been  turned 
out  of  the  service,  they  remained  in  it  with  their  red  coats  and 
epaulets ;  he  was  merely  the  son  of  a  man  who  had  rendered 
good  service  to  his  country ;  they  were,  for  the  most  part,  highly 
connected — they  were  in  the  extremest  degree  genteel,  he  quite 
the  reverse ;  so  the  nation  wavered,  considered,  thought  the 
genteel  side  was  the  safest  after  all,  and  then  with  the  cry  of 
"  Oh  !  there  is  nothing  like  gentility,"  ratted  bodily.  Newspaper 
and  public  turned  against  the  victim,  scouted  him,  apologised  for 
the — what  should  they  be  called  ? — who  were  not  only  admitted 
into  the  most  respectable  society,  but  courted  to  come,  the  spots 
not  merely  of  wine  on  their  military  clothes,  giving  them  a  kind 
of  poignancy.  But  there  is  a  God  in  heaven  ;  the  British  glories 
are  tarnished — Providence  has  never  smiled  on  British  arms  since 
that  case — oh  !  Balaklava  !  thy  name  interpreted  is  net  of  fishes, 
and  well  dost  thou  deserve  that  name.  How  many  a  scarlet 
golden  fish  has  of  late  perished  in  the  mud  amidst  thee,  cursing 
the  genteel  service,  and  the  genteel  leader  which  brought  him  to 
such  a  doom. 

Whether  the  rage  for  gentility  is  most  prevalent  amongst  the 
upper,  middle  or  lower  classes  it  is  difficult  to  say ;  the  priest  in 
the  text  seems  to  think  that  it  is  exhibited  in  the  most  decided 
manner  in  the  middle  class ;  it  is  the  writer's  opinion,  however, 
that  in  no  class  is  it  more  strongly  developed  than  in  the  lower : 
what  they  call  being  well-born  goes  a  great  way  amongst  them, 
but  the  possession  of  money  much  farther,  whence  Mr.  Flamson's 
influence  over  them.  Their  rage  against,  and  scorn  for,  any  person 
who  by  his  courage  and  talents  has  advanced  himself  in  life,  and 
still  remains  poor,  are  indescribable ;  "  he  is  no  better  than  our- 
selves," they  say,  "why  should  he  be  above  us?" — for  they  have 
no  conception  that  anybody  has  a  right  to  ascendency  over  them- 
selves except  by  birth  or  money.  This  feeling  amongst  the  vulgar 
has  been,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  bane  of  the  two  services,  naval 
and  military.  The  writer  does  not  make  this  assertion  rashly ;  he 
observed  this  feeling  at  work  in  the  army  when  a  child,  and  he 
has  good  reason  for  believing  that  it  was  as  strongly  at  work  in  the 
navy  at  the  same  time,  and  is  still  as  prevalent  in  both.  Why 
are  not  brave  men  raised  from  the  ranks  ?  is  frequently  the  cry , 
why  are  not  brave  sailors  promoted  ?  the  Lord  help  brave  soldiers 
and  sailors  who  are  promoted  ;  they  have  less  to  undergo  from  the 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  331 

high  airs  of  their  brother  officers,  and  those  are  hard  enough  to 
endure,  than  from  the  insolence  of  the  men.  Soldiers  and  sailors 
promoted  to  command  are  said  to  be  in  general  tyrants ;  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  when  they  are  tyrants,  they  have  been  obliged 
to  have  recourse  to  extreme  severity  in  order  to  protect  themselves 
from  the  insolence  and  mutinous  spirit  of  the  men, — "  He  is  no 
better  than  ourselves  :  shoot  him,  bayonet  him,  or  fling  him  over- 
board ! "  they  say  of  some  obnoxious  individual  raised  above  them 
by  his  merit.  Soldiers  and  sailors  in  general,  will  bear  any 
amount  of  tyranny  from  a  lordly  sot,  or  the  son  of  a  man  who  has 
"plenty  of  brass" — their  own  term — but  will  mutiny  against  the 
just  orders  of  a  skilful  and  brave  officer  who  "  is  no  better  than 
themselves  ".  There  was  the  affair  of  the  Bounty,  for  example  : 
Bligh  was  one  of  the  best  seamen  that  ever  trod  deck,  and  one  of 
the  bravest  of  men ;  proofs  of  his  seamanship  he  gave  by  steering, 
amidst  dreadful  weather,  a  deeply  laden  boat  for  nearly  four 
thousand  miles  over  an  almost  unknown  ocean — of  his  bravery, 
at  the  fight  of  Copenhagen,  one  of  the  most  desperate  ever  fought, 
of  which  after  Nelson  he  was  the  hero  :  he  was,  moreover,  not  an 
unkind  man  ;  but  the  crew  of  the  Bounty,  mutinied  against 
him,  and  set  him  half  naked  in  an  open  boat,  with  certain  of  his 
men  who  remained  faithful  to  him,  and  ran  away  with  the  ship. 
Their  principal  motive  for  doing  so  was  an  idea,  whether  true  or 
groundless  the  writer  cannot  say,  that  Bligh  was  "  no  better  than 
themselves";  he  was  certainly  neither  a  lord's  illegitimate,  nor 
possessed  of  twenty  thousand  pounds.  The  writer  knows  what  he 
is  writing  about,  having  been  acquainted  in  his  early  years  with 
an  individual  who  was  turned  adrift  with  Bligh,  and  who  died 
about  the  year  '22,  a  lieutenant  in  the  navy,  in  a  provincial  town 
in  which  the  writer  was  brought  up.  The  ringleaders  in  the 
mutiny  were  two  scoundrels,  Christian  and  Young,  who  had  great 
influence  with  the  crew,  because  they  were  genteelly  connected. 
Bligh,  after  leaving  the  Bounty,  had  considerable  difficulty  in 
managing  the  men  who  had  shared  his  fate,  because  they  con- 
sidered themselves  "  as  good  men  as  he,"  notwithstanding,  that  to 
his  conduct  and  seamanship  they  had  alone  to  look,  under  Heaven, 
for  salvation  from  the  ghastly  perils  that  surrounded  them.  Bligh 
himself,  in  his  journal,  alludes  to  this  feeling.  Once,  when  he  and 
his  companions  landed  on  a  desert  island,  one  of  them  said,  with 
a  mutinous  look,  that  he  considered  himself  "  as  good  a  man  as 
he  "  ;  Bligh,  seizing  a  cutlass,  called  upon  him  to  take  another  and 
defend  himself,  whereupon  the  man  said  that  Bligh  was  going  to 
kill  him,  and  made  all  manner  of  concessions ;  now  why  did  this 


332  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  v. 

fellow  consider  himself  as  good  a  man  as  Bligh  ?  Was  he  as  good 
a  seaman  ?  no,  nor  a  tenth  part  as  good.  As  brave  a  man  ?  no, 
nor  a  tenth  part  as  brave  ;  and  of  these  facts  he  was  perfectly  well 
aware,  but  bravery  and  seamanship  stood  for  nothing  with  him,  as 
they  still  stand  with  thousands  of  his  class ;  Bligh  was  not  genteel 
by  birth  or  money,  therefore  Bligh  was  no  better  than  himself. 
Had  Bligh,  before  he  sailed,  got  a  twenty-thousand  pound  prize 
in  the  lottery,  he  would  have  experienced  no  insolence  from  this 
fellow,  for  there  would  have  been  no  mutiny  in  the  Bounty. 
"He  is  our  betters,"  the  crew  would  have  said,  "and  it  is  our 
duty  to  obey  him." 

The  wonderful  power  of  gentility  in  England  is  exemplified  in 
nothing  more  than  in  what  it  is  producing  amongst  Jews,  Gypsies 
and  Quakers.  It  is  breaking  up  their  venerable  communities. 
All  the  better,  some  one  will  say.  Alas  !  alas  !  It  is  making  the 
wealthy  Jews  forsake  the  synagogue  for  the  opera-house,  or  the 
gentility  chapel,  in  which  a  disciple  of  Mr.  Platitude,  in  a  white 
surplice,  preaches  a  sermon  at  noon-day  from  a  desk,  on  each 
side  of  which  is  a  flaming  taper.  It  is  making  them  abandon 
their  ancient  literature,  their  Mischna,  their  Gemara,  their  Zohar, 
for  gentility  novels,  The  Young  Duke,  the  most  unexceptionably 
genteel  book  ever  written,  being  the  principal  favourite.  It  makes 
the  young  Jew  ashamed  of  the  young  Jewess,  it  makes  her  ashamed 
of  the  young  Jew.  The  young  Jew  marries  an  opera  dancer,  or 
if  the  dancer  will  not  have  him,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  the  cast- 
off  Miss  of  the  honourable  Spencer  So-and-so.  It  makes  the 
young  Jewess  accept  the  honourable  offer  of  a  cashiered  lieutenant 
of  the  Bengal  Native  Infantry  ;  or,  if  such  a  person  does  not  come 
forward,  the  dishonourable  offer  of  a  cornet  of  a  regiment  of  crack 
hussars.  It  makes  poor  Jews,  male  and  female,  forsake  the 
synagogue  for  the  sixpenny  theatre  or  penny  hop  ;  the  Jew  to  take 
up  with  an  Irish  female  of  loose  character,  and  the  Jewess  with  a 
musician  of  the  Guards,  or  the  Tipperary  servant  of  Captain  Mulli- 
gan. With  respect  to  the  gypsies,  it  is  making  the  women  what  they 
never  were  before — harlots ;  and  the  men  what  they  never  were 
before — careless  fathers  and  husbands.  It  has  made  the  daughter 
of  Ursula,  the  chaste,  take  up  with  the  base  drummer  of  a  wild- 
beast  show.  It  makes  Gorgiko  Brown,  the  gypsy  man,  leave  his 
tent  and  his  old  wife,  of  an  evening,  and  thrust  himself  into  society 
which  could  well  dispense  with  him.  "  Brother,"  said  Mr.  Petu- 
lengro  the  other  day  to  the  Romany  Rye,  after  telling  him  many 
things  connected  with  the  decadence  of  gypsyism,  "there  is  one 
Gorgiko  Brown,  who,  with  a  face  as  black  as  a  tea-kettle,  wishes 


i854-]  APPENDIX.  333 

to  be  mistaken  for  a  Christian  tradesman ;  he  goes  into  the  par- 
lour of  a  third-rate  inn  of  an  evening,  calls  for  rum  and  water, 
and  attempts  to  enter  into  conversation  with  the  company 
about  politics  and  business ;  the  company  flout  him  or  give 
him  the  cold  shoulder,  or  perhaps  complain  to  the  landlord, 
who  comes  and  asks  him  what  business  he  has  in  the  parlour, 
telling  him  if  he  wants  to  drink  to  go  into  the  tap-room,  and 
perhaps  collars  him  and  kicks  him  out,  provided  he  refuses  to 
move."  With  respect  to  the  Quakers,  it  makes  the  young 
people  like  the  young  Jews,  crazy  after  gentility  diversions, 
worship,  marriages  or  connections,  and  makes  old  Pease  do 
what  it  makes  Gorgiko  Brown  do,  thrust  himself  into  society 
which  could  well  dispense  with  him,  and  out  of  which  he  is  not 
kicked,  because  unlike  the  gyspy  he  is  not  poor.  The  writer 
would  say  much  more  on  these  points,  but  want  of  room  prevents 
him ;  he  must  therefore  request  the  reader  to  have  patience  until 
he  can  lay  before  the  world  a  pamphlet,  which  he  has  been  long 
meditating,  to  be  entitled  "  Remarks  on  the  strikingly  similar 
Effects  which  a  Love  for  Gentility  has  produced,  and  is  producing, 
amongst  Jews,  Gypsies  and  Quakers". 

The  priest  in  the  book  has  much  to  say  on  the  subject  of  this 
gentility-nonsense ;  no  person  can  possibly  despise  it  more  thor- 
oughly than  that  very  remarkable  individual  seems  to  do,  yet  he 
hails  its  prevalence  with  pleasure,  knowing  the  benefits  which  will 
result  from  it  to  the  Church  of  which  he  is  the  sneering  slave. 
"  The  English  are  mad  after  gentility/'  says  he  ;  "  well,  all  the 
better  for  us ;  their  religion  for  a  long  time  past  has  been  a  plain 
and  simple  one,  and  consequently  by  no  means  genteel ;  they'll 
quit  it  for  ours,  which  is  the  perfection  of  what  they  admire ; 
with  which  Templars,  Hospitalers,  mitred  abbots,  Gothic  abbeys, 
long-drawn  aisles,  golden  censers,  incense,  et  cetera,  are  connected  ; 
nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  of  Christ,  it  is  true,  but  weighed  in 
the  balance  against  gentility,  where  will  Christianity  be?  why, 
kicking  against  the  beam — ho  !  ho  !  "  And  in  connection  with 
the  gentility-nonsense,  he  expatiates  largely,  and  with  much  con- 
tempt, on  a  species  of  literature  by  which  the  interests  of  his  Church 
in  England  have  been  very  much  advanced — all  genuine  priests 
have  a  thorough  contempt  for  everything  which  tends  to  advance 
the  interests  of  their  Church — this  literature  is  made  up  of  pseudo 
Jacobitism,  Charlie  o'er  the  waterism,  or  nonsense  about  Charlie 
o'er  the  water.  And  the  writer  will  now  take  the  liberty  of  saying 
a  few  words  about  it  on  his  own  account. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON  SCOTCH  GENTILITY  NONSENSE. 

OF  the  literature  just  alluded  to  Scott  was  the  inventor.  It  is 
founded  on  the  fortunes  and  misfortunes  of  the  Stuart  family,  of 
which  Scott  was  the  zealous  defender  and  apologist,  doing  all  that 
in  his  power  lay  to  represent  the  members  of  it  as  noble,  chivalrous, 
high-minded,  unfortunate  princes;  though,  perhaps,  of  all  the  royal 
families  that  ever  existed  upon  earth,  this  family  was  the  worst.  It 
was  unfortunate  enough,  it  is  true  ;  but  it  owed  its  misfortunes  en- 
tirely to  its  crimes,  viciousness,  bad  faith,  and  cowardice.  Nothing 
will  be  said  of  it  here  until  it  made  its  appearance  in  England  to 
occupy  the  English  throne. 

The  first  of  the  family  which  we  have  to  do  with,  James,  was 
a  dirty,  cowardly  miscreant,  of  whom  the  less  said  the  better. 
His  son,  Charles  the  First,  was  a  tyrant — exceedingly  cruel  and 
revengeful,  but  weak  and  dastardly ;  he  caused  a  poor  fellow  to 
be  hanged  in  London,  who  was  not  his  subject,  because  he  had 
heard  that  the  unfortunate  creature  had  once  bit  his  own  glove  at 
Cadiz,  in  Spain,  at  the  mention  of  his  name ;  and  he  permitted 
his  own  bull-dog,  Strafford,  to  be  executed  by  his  own  enemies, 
though  the  only  crime  of  Strafford  was,  that  he  had  barked  furiously 
at  those  enemies,  and  had  worried  two  or  three  of  them,  when 
Charles  shouted,  "Fetch  'em".  He  was  a  bitter,  but  yet  a  des- 
picable enemy,  and  the  coldest  and  most  worthless  of  friends ; 
for  though  he  always  hoped  to  be  able,  some  time  or  other,  to 
hang  his  enemies,  he  was  always  ready  to  curry  favour  with  them, 
more  especially  if  he  could  do  so  at  the  expense  of  his  friends. 
He  was  the  haughtiest,  yet  meanest  of  mankind.  He  once  caned 
a  young  nobleman  for  appearing  before  him  in  the  drawing-room 
not  dressed  exactly  according  to  the  court  etiquette ;  yet  he  con- 
descended to  flatter  and  compliment  him  who,  from  principle, 
was  his  bitterest  enemy,  namely  Harrison,  when  the  republican 
colonel  was  conducting  him  as  a  prisoner  to  London.  His  bad 
faith  was  notorious ;  it  was  from  abhorrence  of  the  first  public 
instance  which  he  gave  of  his  bad  faith,  his  breaking  his  word  to 
the  Infanta  of  Spain,  that  the  poor  Hiberno-Spaniard  bit  his  glove 
at  Cadiz ;  and  it  was  his  notorious  bad  faith  which  eventually  cost 

(334) 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  335 

him  his  head ;  for  the  Republicans  would  gladly  have  spared  him, 
provided  they  could  put  the  slightest  confidence  in  any  promise, 
however  solemn,  which  he  might  have  made  to  them.  Of  them, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  they  most  hated  or  despised 
him.  Religion  he  had  none.  One  day  he  favoured  Popery ;  the 
next,  on  hearing  certain  clamours  of  the  people,  he  sent  his  wife's 
domestics  back  packing  to  France,  because  they  were  Papists. 
Papists,  however,  should  make  him  a  saint,  for  he  was  certainly 
the  cause  of  the  taking  of  Rochelle. 

His  son,  Charles  the  Second,  though  he  passed  his  youth  in 
the  school  of  adversity,  learned  no  other  lesson  from  it  than  the 
following  one — take  care  of  yourself,  and  never  do  an  action, 
either  good  or  bad,  which  is  likely  to  bring  you  into  any  great 
difficulty  ;  and  this  maxim  he  acted  up  to  as  soon  as  he  came  to 
the  throne.  He  was  a  Papist,  but  took  especial  care  not  to 
acknowledge  his  religion,  at  which  he  frequently  scoffed,  till  just 
before  his  last  gasp,  when  he  knew  that  he  could  lose  nothing, 
and  hoped  to  gain  everything  by  it.  He  was  always  in  want  of 
money,  but  took  care  not  to  tax  the  country  beyond  all  endurable 
bounds ;  preferring  to  such  a  bold  and  dangerous  course,  to  be- 
come the  secret  pensioner  of  Louis,  to  whom,  in  return  for  his  gold, 
he  sacrificed  the  honour  and  interests  of  Britain.  He  was  too 
lazy  and  sensual  to  delight  in  playing  the  part  of  a  tyrant  himself; 
but  he  never  checked  tyranny  in  others  save  in  one  instance. 
He  permitted  beastly  butchers  to  commit  unmentionable  horrors 
on  the  feeble,  unarmed  and  disunited  Covenanters  of  Scotland, 
but  checked  them  when  they  would  fain  have  endeavoured  to  play 
the  same  game  on  the  numerous  united,  dogged  and  warlike 
Independents  of  England.  To  show  his  filial  piety,  he  bade  the 
hangman  dishonour  the  corpses  of  some  of  his  father's  judges, 
before  whom,  when  alive,  he  ran  like  a  screaming  hare ;  but  per- 
mitted those  who  had  lost  their  all  in  supporting  his  father's  cause, 
to  pine  in  misery  and  want.  He  would  give  to  a  painted  harlot 
a  thousand  pounds  for  a  loathsome  embrace,  and  to  a  player  or 
buffoon  a  hundred  for  a  trumpery  pun,  but  would  refuse  a  penny 
to  the  widow  or  orphan  of  an  old  Royalist  soldier.  He  was  the 
personification  of  selfishness ;  and  as  he  loved  and  cared  for  no 
one,  so  did  no  one  love  or  care  for  him.  So  little  had  he  gained 
the  respect  or  affection  of  those  who  surrounded  him,  that  after 
his  body  had  undergone  an  after-death  examination,  parts  of  it 
were  thrown  down  the  sinks  of  the  palace,  to  become  eventually 
the  prey  of  the  swine  and  ducks  of  Westminster. 

His  brother,  who  succeeded  him   James  the  Second,  was  a 


336  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vi. 

Papist,  but  sufficiently  honest  to  acknowledge  his  Popery,  but 
upon  the  whole,  he  was  a  poor  creature ;  though  a  tyrant,  he  was 
cowardly ;  had  he  not  been  a  coward  he  would  never  have  lost  his 
throne.  There  were  plenty  of  lovers  of  tyranny  in  England  who 
would  have  stood  by  him,  provided  he  would  have  stood  by  them, 
and  would,  though  not  Papists,  have  encouraged  him  in  his 
attempt  to  bring  back  England  beneath  the  sway  of  Rome,  and 
perhaps  would  eventually  have  become  Papists  themselves ;  but 
the  nation  raising  a  cry  against  him,  and  his  son-in-law,  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  invading  the  country,  he  forsook  his  friends,  of  whom 
he  had  a  host,  but  for  whom  he  cared  little — left  his  throne,  for 
which  he  cared  a  great  deal — and  Popery  in  England,  for  which 
he  cared  yet  more,  to  their  fate,  and  escaped  to  France,  from 
whence,  after  taking  a  little  heart,  he  repaired  to  Ireland,  where 
he  was  speedily  joined  by  a  gallant  army  of  Papists  whom  he 
basely  abandoned  at  the  Boyne,  running  away  in  a  most  lament- 
able condition,  at  the  time  when  by  showing  a  little  courage  he 
might  have  enabled  them  to  conquer.  This  worthy,  in  his  last 
will,  bequeathed  his  heart  to  England,  his  right  arm  to  Scotland, 
and  his  bowels  to  Ireland.  What  the  English  and  Scotch  said  to 
their  respective  bequests  is  not  known,  but  it  is  certain  that  an 
old  Irish  priest,  supposed  to  have  been  a  great  grand-uncle  of  the 
present  Reverend  Father  Murtagh,  on  hearing  of  the  bequest  to 
Ireland,  fell  into  a  great  passion,  and  having  been  brought  up  at 
"  Paris  and  Salamanca,"  expressed  his  indignation  in  the  following 
strain  :  "  Malditas  sean  tus  trtpas !  teniamos  bastante  del  olor  de 
tus  tripas  al  tiempo  de  tu  huida  de  la  batalla  del  Boyne  !  " 

His  son,  generally  called  the  Old  Pretender,  though  born  in 
England,  was  carried  in  his  infancy  to  France,  where  he  was 
brought  up  in  the  strictest  principles  of  Popery,  which  principles, 
however,  did  not  prevent  him  becoming  (when  did  they  ever 
prevent  any  one  ?)  a  worthless  and  profligate  scoundrel ;  there  are 
some  doubts  as  to  the  reality  of  his  being  a  son  of  James,  which 
doubts  are  probably  unfounded,  the  grand  proof  of  his  legitimacy 
being  the  thorough  baseness  of  his  character.  It  was  said  of  his 
father  that  he  could  speak  well,  and  it  may  be  said  of  him  that  he 
could  write  well,  the  only  thing  he  could  do  which  was  worth 
doing,  always  supposing  that  there  is  any  merit  in  being  able  to 
write.  He  was  of  a  mean  appearance,  and,  like  his  father, 
pusillanimous  to  a  degree.  The  meaness  of  his  appearance  dis- 
gusted, and  his  pusillanimity  discouraged,  the  Scotch  when  he 
made  his  appearance  amongst  them  in  the  year  1715,  some  time 
after  the  standard  of  rebellion  had  been  hoisted  by  Mar.  He 


1854*]  APPENDIX.  337 

only  stayed  a  short  time  in  Scotland,  and  then,  seized  with  panic, 
retreated  to  France,  leaving  his  friends  to  shift  for  themselves  as 
they  best  could.  He  died  a  pensioner  of  the  Pope. 

The  son  of  this  man,  Charles  Edward,  of  whom  so  much  in 
latter  years  has  been  said  and  written,  was  a  worthless,  ignorant 
youth,  and  a  profligate  and  illiterate  old  man.  When  young,  the 
best  that  can  be  said  of  him  is,  that  he  had  occasionally  springs 
of  courage,  invariably  at  the  wrong  time  and  place,  which  merely 
served  to  lead  his  friends  into  inextricable  difficulties.  When  old, 
he  was  loathsome  and  contemptible  to  both  friend  and  foe.  His 
wife  loathed  him,  and  for  the  most  terrible  of  reasons ;  she  did 
not  pollute  his  couch,  for  to  do  that  was  impossible — he  had 
made  it  so  vile ;  but  she  betrayed  it,  inviting  to  it  not  only  Alfieri 
the  Filthy,  but  the  coarsest  grooms.  Doctor  King,  the  warmest 
and  almost  last  adherent  of  his  family,  said  that  there  was  not  a 
vice  or  crime  of  which  he  was  not  guilty ;  as  for  his  foes,  they 
scorned  to  harm  him  even  when  in  their  power.  In  the  year 
1745  he  came  down  from  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  which  had 
long  been  a  focus  of  rebellion.  He  was  attended  by  certain  clans 
of  the  Highlands,  desperadoes  used  to  free-bootery  from  their 
infancy,  and,  consequently,  to  the  use  of  arms,  and  possessed  of  a 
certain  species  of  discipline  ;  with  these  he  defeated  at  Prestonpans 
a  body  of  men  called  soldiers,  but  who  were  in  reality  peasants 
and  artisans,  levied  about  a  month  before,  without  discipline 
or  confidence  in  each  other,  and  who  were  miserably  massacred 
by  the  Highland  army  ;  he  subsequently  invaded  England,  nearly 
destitute  of  regular  soldiers,  and  penetrated  as  far  as  Derby,  from 
which  place  he  retreated  on  learning  that  regular  forces  which  had 
been  hastily  recalled  from  Flanders  were  coming  against  him, 
with  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  at  their  head ;  he  was  pursued, 
and  his  rear  guard  overtaken  and  defeated  by  the  dragoons  of  the 
duke  at  Clifton,  from  which  place  the  rebels  retreated  in  great 
confusion  across  the  Eden  into  Scotland,  where  they  commenced 
dancing  Highland  reels  and  strathspeys  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
for  joy  at  their  escape,  whilst  a  number  of  wretched  girls,  paramours 
of  some  of  them,  were  perishing  in  the  waters  of  the  swollen  river 
in  an  attempt  to  follow  them ;  they  themselves  passed  over  by 
eighties  and  by  hundreds,  arm  in  arm,  for  mutual  safety,  without 
the  loss  of  a  man,  but  they  left  the  poor  paramours  to  shift  for 
themselves,  nor  did  any  of  these  canny  people  after  passing  the 
stream  dash  back  to  rescue  a  single  female  life — no,  they  were 
too  well  employed  upon  the  bank  in  dancing  strathspeys  to  the 
tune  of  "  Charlie  o'er  the  water  " .  It  was,  indeed,  Charlie  o'er 

22 


33*  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vi. 

the  water,  and  canny  Highlanders  o'er  the  water,  but  where  were 
the  poor  prostitutes  meantime  ?     In  the  water. 

The  Jacobite  farce,  or  tragedy,  was  speedily  brought  to  a  close 
by  the  battle  of  Culloden ;  there  did  Charlie  wish  himself  back 
again  o'er  the  water,  exhibiting  the  most  unmistakable  signs  of 
pusillanimity ;  there  were  the  clans  cut  to  pieces,  at  least  those 
who  could  be  brought  to  the  charge,  and  there  fell  Giles  Mac 
Bean,  or  as  he  was  called  in  Gaelic,  Giliosa  Mac  Beathan,  a  kind 
of  giant,  six  feet  four  inches  and  a  quarter  high,  "than  whom,"  as 
his  wife  said  in  a  coronach  she  made  upon  him,  "no  man  who 
stood  at  Cuiloitr  was  taller " — Giles  Mac  Bean  the  Major  of  the 
clan  Cattan — a  great  drinker — a  great  fisher — a  great  shooter,  and 
the  champion  of  the  Highland  host. 

The  last  of  the  Stuarts  was  a  cardinal. 

Such  were  the  Stuarts,  such  their  miserable  history.  They 
were  dead  and  buried  in  every  sense  of  the  word  until  Scott 
resuscitated  them — how?  by  the  power  of  fine  writing,  and  by 
calling  to  his  aid  that  strange  divinity,  gentility.  He  wrote 
splendid  novels  about  the  Stuarts,  in  which  he  represents  them  as 
unlike  what  they  really  were  as  the  graceful  and  beautiful  papillon 
is  unlike  the  hideous  and  filthy  worm.  In  a  word,  he  made  them 
genteel,  and  that  was  enough  to  give  them  paramount  sway  over 
the  minds  of  the  British  people.  The  public  became  Stuart-mad, 
and  everybody,  especially  the  women,  said,  "  What  a  pity  it  was 
that  we  hadn't  a  Stuart  to  govern  "  .  All  parties,  Whig,  Tory  or 
Radical,  became  Jacobite  at  heart,  and  admirers  of  absolute 
power.  The  Whigs  talked  about  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  and 
the  Radicals  about  the  rights  of  man  still,  but  neither  party  cared 
a  straw  for  what  it  talked  about,  and  mentally  swore  that,  as  soon 
as  by  means  of  such  stuff  they  could  get  places,  and  fill  their 
pockets,  they  would  be  as  Jacobite  as  the  Jacobs  themselves.  As 
for  the  Tories,  no  great  change  in  them  was  necessary ;  everything 
favouring  absolutism  and  slavery  being  congenial  to  them.  So  the 
whole  nation,  that  is,  the  reading  part  of  the  nation,  with  some 
exceptions,  for  thank  God  there  has  always  been  some  salt  in 
England,  went  over  the  water  to  Charlie.  But  going  over  to 
Charlie  was  not  enough,  they  must,  or  at  least  a  considerable  part 
of  them,  go  over  to  Rome  too,  or  have  a  hankering  to  do  so.  As 
the  priest  sarcastically  observes  in  the  text,  "  As  all  the  Jacobs 
were  Papists,  so  the  good  folks  who  through  Scott's  novels  admire 
the  Jacobs  must  be  Papists  too " .  An  idea  got  about  that  the 
religion  of  such  genteel  people  as  the  Stuarts  must  be  the  climax 
of  gentility,  and  that  idea  was  quite  sufficient.  Only  let  a  thing, 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  339 

whether  temporal  or  spiritual,  be  considered  genteel  in  England, 
and  if  it  be  not  followed  it  is  strange  indeed ;  so  Scott's  writings 
not  only  made  the  greater  part  of  the  nation  Jacobite,  but  Popish. 
Here  some  people  will  exclaim — whose  opinions  remain  sound 
and  uncontaminated — what  you  say  is  perhaps  true  with  respect 
to  the  Jacobite  nonsense  at  present  so  prevalent  being  derived 
from  Scott's  novels,  but  the  Popish  nonsense,  which  people  of 
the  genteeler  classes  are  so  fond  of,  is  derived  from  Oxford. 
We  sent  our  sons  to  Oxford  nice  honest  lads,  educated  in  the 
principles  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first 
term  they  came  home  puppies,  talking  Popish  nonsense,  which  they 
had  learned  from  the  pedants  to  whose  care  we  had  entrusted 
them;  ay,  not  only  Popery  but  Jacobitism,  which  they  hardly 
carried  with  them  from  home,  for  we  never  heard  them  talking 
Jacobitism  before  they  had  been  at  Oxford ;  but  now  their  con- 
versation is  a  farrago  of  Popish  and  Jacobite  stuff — "  Complines 
and  Claverse  ".  Now,  what  these  honest  folks  say  is,  to  a  certain 
extent,  founded  on  fact;  the  Popery  which  has  overflowed  the 
land  during  the  last  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  has  come  immedi- 
ately from  Oxford,  and  likewise  some  of  the  Jacobitism,  Popish 
and  Jacobite  nonsense,  and  little  or  nothing  else,  having  been 
taught  at  Oxford  for  about  that  number  of  years.  But  whence 
did  the  pedants  get  the  Popish  nonsense  with  which  they  have 
corrupted  youth  ?  Why,  from  the  same  quarter  from  which  they 
got  the  Jacobite  nonsense  with  which  they  have  inoculated  those 
lads  who  were  not  inoculated  with  it  before — Scott's  novels. 
Jacobitism  and  Laudism,  a  kind  of  half  Popery,  had  at  one  time 
been  very  prevalent  at  Oxford,  but  both  had  been  long  consigned 
to  oblivion  there,  and  people  at  Oxford  cared  as  little  about  Laud 
as  they  did  about  the  Pretender.  Both  were  dead  and  buried 
there,  as  everywhere  else,  till  Scott  called  them  out  of  their  graves 
when  the  pedants  of  Oxford  hailed  both — ay,  and  the  Pope,  too, 
as  soon  as  Scott  had  made  the  old  fellow  fascinating,  through 
particular  novels,  more  especially  the  Monastery  and  Abbot.  Then 
the  quiet,  respectable,  honourable  Church  of  England  would  no 
longer  do  for  the  pedants  of  Oxford ;  they  must  belong  to  a  more 
genteel  Church — they  were  ashamed  at  first  to  be  downright 
Romans — so  they  would  be  Lauds.  The  pale-looking,  but  ex- 
ceedingly genteel  non-juring  clergyman  in  Waverley  was  a  Laud ; 
but  they  soon  became  tired  of  being  Lauds,  for  Laud's  Church, 
gew-gawish  and  idolatrous  as  it  was,  was  not  sufficiently  tinselly 
and  idolatrous  for  them,  so  they  must  be  Popes,  but  in  a  sneaking 
way,  still  calling  themselves  Church  of  England  men,  in  order  to 


340  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vi. 

batten  on  the  bounty  of  the  Church  which  they  were  betraying, 
and  likewise  have  opportunities  of  corrupting  such  lads  as  might 
still  resort  to  Oxford  with  principles  uncontaminated. 

So  the  respectable  people,  whose  opinions  are  still  sound, 
are,  to  a  certain  extent,  right  when  they  say  that  the  tide  of 
Popery,  which  has  flowed  over  the  land,  has  come  from  Oxford. 
It  did  come  immediately  from  Oxford,  but  how  did  it  get  to 
Oxford  ?  Why,  from  Scott's  novels.  Oh !  that  sermon  which 
was  the  first  manifestation  of  Oxford  feeling,  preached  at  Oxford 
some  time  in  the  year  '38  by  a  divine  of  a  weak  and  confused 
intellect,  in  which  Popery  was  mixed  up  with  Jacobitism !  The 
present  writer  remembers  perfectly  well,  on  reading  some  extracts 
from  it  at  the  time  in  a  newspaper,  on  the  top  of  a  coach,  ex- 
claiming— "Why,  the  simpleton  has  been  pilfering  from  Walter 
Scott's  novels  ! " 

O  Oxford  pedants !  Oxford  pedants !  ye  whose  politics  and 
religion  are  both  derived  from  Scott's  novels !  what  a  pity  it  is 
that  some  lad  of  honest  parents,  whose  mind  ye  are  endeavouring 
to  stultify  with  your  nonsense  about  "  Complines  and  Claverse," 
has  not  the  spirit  to  start  up  and  cry,  "  Confound  your  gibberish  ! 
I'll  have  none  of  it.  Hurrah  for  the  Church,  and  the  principles 
of  my  father!" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 

Now  what  could  have  induced  Scott  to  write  novels  tending  to 
make  people  Papists  and  Jacobites,  and  in  love  with  arbitrary 
power  ?  Did  he  think  that  Christianity  was  a  gaudy  mummery  ? 
He  did  not,  he  could  not,  for  he  had  read  the  Bible ;  yet  was  he 
fond  of  gaudy  mummeries,  fond  of  talking  about  them.  Did  he 
believe  that  the  Stuarts  were  a  good  family,  and  fit  to  govern  a 
country  like  Britain  ?  He  knew  that  they  were  a  vicious,  worthless 
crew,  and  that  Britain  was  a  degraded  country  as  long  as  they 
swayed  the  sceptre;  but  for  those  facts  he  cared  nothing,  they 
governed  in  a  way  which  he  liked,  for  he  had  an  abstract  love  of 
despotism,  and  an  abhorrence  of  everything  savouring  of  freedom 
and  the  rights  of  man  in  general.  His  favourite  political  picture 
was  a  joking,  profligate,  careless  king,  nominally  absolute — the 
heads  of  great  houses  paying  court  to,  but  in  reality  governing, 
that  king,  whilst  revelling  with  him  on  the  plunder  of  a  nation, 
and  a  set  of  crouching,  grovelling  vassals  (the  literal  meaning  of 
vassal  is  a  wretch),  who,  after  allowing  themselves  to  be  horse- 
whipped, would  take  a  bone  if  flung  to  them,  and  be  grateful; 
so  that  in  love  with  mummery,  though  he  knew  what  Christianity 
was,  no  wonder  he  admired  such  a  Church  as  that  of  Rome,  and 
that  which  Laud  set  up ;  and  by  nature  formed  to  be  the  holder 
of  the  candle  to  ancient  worm-eaten  and  profligate  families,  no 
wonder  that  all  his  sympathies  were  with  the  Stuarts  and  their 
dissipated  insolent  party,  and  all  his  hatred  directed  against  those 
who  endeavoured  to  check  them  in  their  proceedings,  and  to 
raise  the  generality  of  mankind  something  above  a  state  of 
vassalage,  that  is,  wretchedness.  Those  who  were  born  great, 
were,  if  he  could  have  had  his  will,  always  to  remain  great, 
however  worthless  their  characters.  Those  who  were  born  low, 
were  always  to  remain  so,  however  great  their  talents ;  though,  if 
that  rule  were  carried  out,  where  would  he  have  been  himself? 
In  the  book  which  he  called  the  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
in  which  he  plays  the  sycophant  to  all  the  legitimate  crowned 
heads  in  Europe,  whatever  their  crimes,  vices  or  miserable 
imbecilities,  he,  in  his  abhorrence  of  everything  low  which  by  its 
own  vigour  makes  itself  illustrious,  calls  Murat  of  the  sabre  the 

(34i) 


APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  VIL 


son  of  a  pastry-cook,  of  a  Marseillaise  pastry-cook.  It  is  a  pity 
that  people  who  give  themselves  hoity-toity  airs  —  and  the  Scotch 
in  general  are  wonderfully  addicted  to  giving  themselves  hoity- 
toity  airs,  and  checking  people  better  than  themselves  with  their 
birth  *  and  their  country  —  it  is  a  great  pity  that  such  people  do 
not  look  at  home  —  son  of  a  pastry-cook,  of  a  Marseilleise  pastry- 
cook !  Well,  and  what  was  Scott  himself?  Why,  son  of  a 
pettifogger,  of  an  Edinburgh  pettifogger.  "  Oh,  but  Scott  was 
descended  from  the  old  cow-stealers  of  Buccleuch,  and  therefore 
-  "  descended  from  old  cow-stealers,  was  he  ?  Well,  had  he  had 
nothing  to  boast  of  beyond  such  a  pedigree,  he  would  have  lived 
and  died  the  son  of  a  pettifogger,  and  been  forgotten,  and  deservedly 
so  ;  but  he  possessed  talents,  and  by  his  talents  rose  like  Murat, 
and  like  him  will  be  remembered  for  his  talents  alone,  and 
deservedly  so.  "Yes,  but  Murat  was  still  the  son  of  a  pastry- 
cook, and  though  he  was  certainly  good  at  the  sabre,  and  cut  his 
way  to  a  throne,  still  -  "  Lord  !  what  fools  there  are  in  the 
world  ;  but  as  no  one  can  be  thought  anything  of  in  this  world 
without  a  pedigree,  the  writer  will  now  give  a  pedigree  for  Murat, 
of  a  very  different  character  from  the  cow-stealing  one  of  Scott, 
but  such  a  one  as  the  proudest  he  might  not  disdain  to  claim. 
Scott  was  descended  from  the  old  cow-stealers  of  Buccleuch  — 
was  he  ?  Good  !  and  Murat  was  descended  from  the  old  Moors 
of  Spain,  from  the  Abencerages  (sons  of  the  saddle)  of  Granada. 
The  name  Murat  is  Arabic,  and  is  the  same  as  Murad  (Le  Desire, 
or  the  wished-for  one).  Scott  in  his  genteel  Life  of  Bonaparte, 
says  that  "  when  Murat  was  in  Egypt,  the  similarity  between  the 
name  of  the  celebrated  Mameluke  Mourad  and  that  of  Bonaparte's 
Meilleur  Sabreur  was  remarked,  and  became  the  subject  of  jest 
amongst  the  comrades  of  the  gallant  Frenchman  ".  But  the 
writer  of  the  novel  of  Bonaparte  did  not  know  that  the  names 
were  one  and  the  same.  Now  which  was  the  best  pedigree,  that 
of  the  son  of  the  pastry-cook,  or  that  of  the  son  of  the  pettifogger? 
Which  was  the  best  blood  ?  Let  us  observe  the  workings  of  the 
two  bloods.  He  who  had  the  blood  of  the  "  sons  of  the  saddle  " 
in  him,  became  the  wonderful  cavalier  of  the  most  wonderful 
host  that  ever  went  forth  to  conquest,  won  for  himself  a  crown 

*  The  writer  has  been  checked  in  print  by  the  Scotch  with  being  a  Norfolk 
man.  Surely,  surely,  these  latter  times  have  not  been  exactly  the  ones  in  which  it 
was  expedient  for  Scotchmen  to  check  the  children  of  any  county  in  England  with 
the  place  of  their  birth,  more  especially  those  who  have  had  the  honour  of  being 
born  in  Norfolk—  times  in  which  British  fleets,  commanded  by  Scotchmen,  ha\o 
returned  laden  with  anything  but  laurels  from  foreign  shores.  It  would  have 
well  for  Britain  had  she  had  the  old  Norfolk  man  to  despatch  to  the  Baltic  or  the 
black  Sea,  lately,  instead  of  Scotch  admirals. 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  343 


and  died  the  death  of  a  soldier,  leaving  behind  him  a  son,  only 
inferior  to  himself  in  strength,  in  prowess,  and  in  horsemanship. 
The  descendant  of  the  cow-stealer  became  a  poet,  a  novel  writer, 
the  panegyrist  of  great  folk  and  genteel  people ;  became  insolvent 
because,  though  an  author,  he  deemed  it  ungenteel  to  be  mixed 
up  with  the  business  part  of  authorship;  died  paralytic  and 
broken-hearted  because  he  could  no  longer  give  entertainments 
to  great  folks ;  leaving  behind  him,  amongst  other  children,  who 
were  never  heard  of,  a  son,  who,  through  his  father's  interest, 
had  become  lieutenant-colonel  in  a  genteel  cavalry  regiment.  A 
son  who  was  ashamed  of  his  father  because  his  father  was  an 
author ;  a  son  who — paugh — why  ask  which  was  the  best  blood  ? 
So,  owing  to  his  rage  for  gentility,  Scott  must  needs  become 
the  apologist  of  the  Stuarts  and  their  party ;  but  God  made  this 
man  pay  dearly  for  taking  the  part  of  the  wicked  against  the  good ; 
for  lauding  up  to  the  skies  the  miscreants  and  robbers,  and 
calumniating  the  noble  spirits  of  Britain,  the  salt  of  England,  and 
his  own  country.  As  God  had  driven  the  Stuarts  from  their 
throne,  and  their  followers  from  their  estates,  making  them 
vagabonds  and  beggars  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  taking  from  them 
all  they  cared  for,  so  did  that  same  God,  who  knows  perfectly 
well  how  and  where  to  strike,  deprive  the  apologist  of  that 
wretched  crew  of  all  that  rendered  life  pleasant  in  his  eyes,  the 
lack  of  which  paralysed  him  in  body  and  mind,  rendered  him 
pitiable  to  others,  loathsome  to  himself, — so  much  so,  that  he 
once  said,  "Where  is  the  beggar  who  would  change  places  with 
me,  notwithstanding  all  my  fame  ? "  Ah !  God  knows  perfectly 
well  how  to  strike.  He  permitted  him  to  retain  all  his  literary 
fame  to  the  very  last — his  literary  fame  for  which  he  cared 
nothing ;  but  what  became  of  the  sweetness  of  life,  his  fine  house, 
his  grand  company,  and  his  entertainments?  The  grand  house 
ceased  to  be  his ;  he  was  only  permitted  to  live  in  it  on  sufferance, 
and  whatever  grandeur  it  might  still  retain,  it  soon  became  as 
desolate  a  looking  house  as  any  misanthrope  could  wish  to  see 
— where  were  the  grand  entertainments  and  the  grand  company  ? 
there  are  no  grand  entertainments  where  there  is  no  money ;  no 
lords  and  ladies  where  there  are  no  entertainments — and  there  lay 
the  poor  lodger  in  the  desolate  house,  groaning  on  a  bed  no  longer 
his,  smitten  by  the  hand  of  God  in  the  part  where  he  was  most 
vulnerable.  Of  what  use  telling  such  a  man  to  take  comfort,  for 
he  had  written  the  Minstrel  and  Rob  Roy, — telling  him  to  think 
of  his  literary  fame?  Literary  fame,  indeed!  he  wanted  back 
his  lost  gentility : — 


344  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vn. 

Retain  my  altar, 
I  care  nothing  for  it — but,  oh  !  touch  not  my  beard. 

— PARNY'S  War  of  the  Gods. 

He  dies,  his  children  die  too,  and  then  comes  the  crowning  judg- 
ment of  God  on  what  remains  of  his  race  and  the  house  which  he 
had  built.  He  was  not  a  Papist  himself,  nor  did  he  wish  any 
one  belonging  to  him  to  be  Popish,  for  he  had  read  enough  of 
the  Bible  to  know  that  no  one  can  be  saved  through  Popery,  yet 
had  he  a  sneaking  affection  for  it,  and  would  at  times  in  an 
underhand  manner,  give  it  a  good  word  both  in  writing  and  dis- 
course, because  it  was  a  gaudy  kind  of  worship,  and  ignorance 
and  vassalage  prevailed  so  long  as  it  flourished — but  he  certainly 
did  not  wish  any  of  his  people  to  become  Papists,  nor  the  house 
which  he  had  built  to  become  a  Popish  house,  though  the  very 
name  he  gave  it  savoured  of  Popery ;  but  Popery  becomes 
fashionable  through  his  novels  and  poems— the  only  one  that  re- 
mains of  his  race,  a  female  grandchild,  marries  a  person  who, 
following  the  fashion,  becomes  a  Papist,  and  makes  her  a  Papist 
too.  Money  abounds  with  the  husband,  who  buys  the  house,  and 
then  the  house  becomes  the  rankest  Popish  house  in  Britain.  A 
superstitious  person  might  almost  imagine  that  one  of  the  old 
Scottish  Covenanters,  whilst  the  grand  house  was  being  built  from 
the  profits  resulting  from  the  sale  of  writings  favouring  Popery 
and  persecution,  and  calumniatory  of  Scotland's  saints  and 
martyrs,  had  risen  from  the  grave,  and  banned  Scott,  his  race, 
and  his  house,  by  reading  a  certain  Psalm. 

In  saying  what  he  has  said  about  Scott,  the  author  has  not 
been  influenced  by  any  feeling  of  malice  or  ill-will,  but  simply  by 
a  regard  for  truth,  and  a  desire  to  point  out  to  his  countrymen 
the  harm  which  has  resulted  from  the  perusal  of  his  works ;  he 
is  not  one  of  those  who  would  depreciate  the  talents  of  Scott — he 
admires  his  talents,  both  as  a  prose  writer  and  a  poet ;  as  a  poet 
especially  he  admires  him,  and  believes  him  to  have  been  by  far 
the  greatest,  with  perhaps  the  exception  of  Mickiewicz,  who  only 
wrote  for  unfortunate  Poland,  that  Europe  has  given  birth  to 
during  the  last  hundred  years.  As  a  prose  writer  he  admires  him 
less,  it  is  true,  but  his  admiration  for  him  in  that  capacity  is  very 
high,  and  he  only  laments  that  he  prostituted  his  talents  to  the  cause 
of  the  Stuarts  and  gentility.  What  book  of  fiction  of  the  present 
century  can  you  read  twice,  with  the  exception  of  Waverley 
and  Rob  Roy  f  There  is  Pelham  it  is  true,  which  the  writer 
of  these  lines  has  seen  a  Jewess  reading  in  the  steppe  of  De- 
breczin,  and  which  a  young  Prussian  Baron,  a  great  traveller, 
whom  he  met  at  Constantinople  in  '44  told  him  he  always  carried 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  345 

in  his  valise.  And,  in  conclusion,  he  will  say,  in  order  to  show 
the  opinion  which  he  entertains  of  the  power  of  Scott  as  a  writer, 
that  he  did  for  the  spectre  of  the  wretched  Pretender  what  all  the 
kings  of  Europe  could  not  do  for  his  body — placed  it  on  the 
throne  of  these  realms;  and  for  Popery,  what  Popes  and  Car- 
dinals strove  in  vain  to  do  for  three  centuries — brought  back  its 
mummeries  and  nonsense  into  the  temples  of  the  British  Isles. 

Scott  during  his  lifetime  had  a  crowd  of  imitators,  who,  whether 
they  wrote  history  so  called — poetry  so  called — or  novels — nobody 
would  call  a  book  a  novel  if  he  could  call  it  anything  else — wrote 
Charlie  o'er  the  water  nonsense ;  and  now  that  he  has  been  dead 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  there  are  others  daily  springing  up 
who  are  striving  to  imitate  Scott  in  his  Charlie  o'er  the  water 
nonsense — for  nonsense  it  is,  even  when  flowing  from  his  pen. 
They,  too,  must  write  Jacobite  histories,  Jacobite  songs,  and 
Jacobite  novels,  and  much  the  same  figure  as  the  scoundrel 
menials  in  the  comedy  cut  when  personating  their  masters,  and 
retailing  their  masters'  conversation,  do  they  cut  as  Walter  Scotts. 
In  their  histories,  they  too  talk  about  the  Prince  and  Glenfinnan, 
and  the  pibroch;  and  in  their  songs  about  "  Claverse "  and 
"Bonny  Dundee".  But  though  they  may  be  Scots,  they  are 
not  Walter  Scotts.  But  it  is  perhaps  chiefly  in  the  novel  that 
you  see  the  veritable  hog  in  armour;  the  time  of  the  novel  is 
of  course  the  '15  or  '45;  the  hero  a  Jacobite,  and  connected 
with  one  or  other  of  the  enterprises  of  those  periods ;  and  the 
author,  to  show  how  unprejudiced  he  is,  and  what  original  views  he 
takes  of  subjects,  must  needs  speak  up  for  Popery,  whenever  he  has 
occasion  to  mention  it ;  though  with  all  his  originality,  when  he 
brings  his  hero  and  the  vagabonds  with  which  he  is  concerned 
before  a  barricaded  house,  belonging  to  the  Whigs,  he  can  make 
them  get  into  it  by  no  other  method  than  that  which  Scott  makes 
his  rioters  employ  to  get  into  the  Tolbooth,  burning  down  the  door. 

To  express  the  more  than  utter  foolishness  of  this  latter  Charlie 
o'er  the  water  nonsense,  whether  in  rhyme  or  prose,  there  is  but 
one  word,  and  that  word  a  Scotch  word.  Scotch,  the  sorriest  of 
jargons,  compared  with  which  even  Roth-Welsch  is  dignified  and 
expressive,  has  yet  one  word  to  express  what  would  be  inexpressible 
by  any  word  or  combination  of  words  in  any  language,  or  in  any 
other  jargon  in  the  world  ;  and  very  properly  ;  for  as  the  nonsense 
is  properly  Scotch,  so  should  the  word  be  Scotch  which  expresses 
it — that  word  is  "fushionless,"  pronounced  fooshionless ;  and 
when  the  writer  has  called  the  nonsense  fooshionless — and  he 
does  call  it  fooshionless  —  he  has  nothing  more  to  say,  but 
leaves  the  nonsense  to  its  fate. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON  CANTING  NONSENSE. 

THE  writer  now  wishes  to  say  something  on  the  subject  of  canting 
nonsense,  of  which  there  is  a  great  deal  in  England.  There  are 
various  cants  in  England,  amongst  which  is  the  religious  cant. 
He  is  not  going  to  discuss  the  subject  of  religious  cant :  lest, 
however,  he  should  be  misunderstood,  he  begs  leave  to  repeat  that 
he  is  a  sincere  member  of  the  old-fashioned  Church  of  England,  in 
which  he  believes  there  is  more  religion,  and  consequently  less  cant, 
than  in  any  other  Church  in  the  world ;  nor  is  he  going  to  discuss 
many  other  cants ;  he  shall  content  himself  with  saying  some- 
thing about  two — the  temperance  cant  and  the  unmanly  cant. 
Temperance  canters  say  that,  "it  is  unlawful  to  drink  a  glass 
of  ale ".  Unmanly  canters  say  that  "it  is  unlawful  to  use  one's 
fists".  The  writer  begs  leave  to  tell  both  these  species  of 
canters  that  they  do  not  speak  the  words  of  truth. 

It  is  very  lawful  to  take  a  cup  of  ale,  or  wine,  for  the  purpose  of 
cheering  or  invigorating  yourself  when  you  are  faint  and  down- 
hearted ;  and  likewise  to  give  a  cup  of  ale  or  wine  to  others  when  they 
are  in  a  similar  condition.  The  Holy  Scripture  sayeth  nothing  to 
the  contrary,  but  rather  encourageth  people  in  so  doing  by  the 
text,  "Wine  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man".  But  it  is  not 
lawful  to  intoxicate  yourself  with  frequent  cups  of  ale  or  wine, 
nor  to  make  others  intoxicated,  nor  does  the  Holy  Scripture  say 
that  it  is.  The  Holy  Scripture  no  more  says  that  it  is  lawful  to 
intoxicate  yourself  or  others,  than  it  says  that  it  is  unlawful  to  take 
a  cup  of  ale  or  wine  yourself,  or  to  give  one  to  others.  Noah 
is  not  commended  in  the  Scripture  for  making  himself  drunken 
on  the  wine  he  brewed.  Nor  is  it  said  that  the  Saviour,  when 
He  supplied  the  guests  with  first-rate  wine  at  the  marriage  feast, 
told  them  to  make  themselves  drunk  upon  it.  He  is  said  to 
have  supplied  them  with  first-rate  wine,  but  He  doubtless  left 
the  quantity  which  each  should  drink  to  each  party's  reason  and 
discretion.  When  you  set  a  good  dinner  before  your  guests,  you 
do  not  expect  that  they  should  gorge  themselves  with  the  victuals 
you  set  before  them.  Wine  may  be  abused,  and  so  may  a  leg  of 
mutton. 

(346) 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  347 


Second.  It  is  lawful  for  any  one  to  use  his  fists  in  his  own 
defence,  or  in  the  defence  of  others,  provided  they  can't  help 
themselves;  but  it  is  not  lawful  to  use  them  for  purposes  of 
tyranny  or  brutality.  If  you  are  attacked  by  a  ruffian,  as  the 
elderly  individual  in  Lavengro  is  in  the  inn  yard,  it  is  quite  law- 
ful, if  you  can,  to  give  him  as  good  a  thrashing  as  the  elderly 
individual  gave  the  brutal  coachman ;  and  if  you  see  a  helpless 
woman — perhaps  your  own  sister — set  upon  by  a  drunken  lord,  a 
drunken  coachman,  or  a  drunken  coalheaver,  or  a  brute  of  any 
description,  either  drunk  or  sober,  it  is  not  only  lawful,  but  laudable 
to  give  them,  if  you  can,  a  good  drubbing;  but  it  is  not  lawful  because 
you  have  a  strong  pair  of  fists,  and  know  how  to  use  them,  to  go 
swaggering  through  a  fair,  jostling  against  unoffending  individuals; 
should  you  do  so,  you  would  be  served  quite  right  if  you  were 
to  get  a  drubbing,  more  particularly  if  you  were  served  out  by 
some  one  less  strong,  but  more  skilful  than  yourself — even  as  the 
coachman  was  served  out  by  a  pupil  of  the  immortal  Broughton 
— sixty  years  old,  it  is  true,  but  possessed  of  Broughton's  guard 
and  chop.  Moses  is  not  blamed  in  the  Scripture  for  taking  part 
with  the  oppressed,  and  killing  an  Egyptian  persecutor.  We  are 
not  told  how  Moses  killed  the  Egyptian ;  but  it  is  quite  as  credit- 
able to  Moses  to  suppose  that  he  killed  the  Egyptian  by  giving 
him  a  buffet  under  the  left  ear,  as  by  stabbing  him  with  a  knife. 
It  is  true  that  the  Saviour  in  the  New  Testament  tells  His  disciples 
to  turn  the  left  cheek  to  be  smitten,  after  they  had  received  a  blow 
on  the  right ;  but  He  was  speaking  to  people  divinely  inspired,  or 
whom  He  intended  divinely  to  inspire — people  selected  by  God 
for  a  particular  purpose.  He  likewise  tells  these  people  to  part  with 
various  articles  of  raiment  when  asked  for  them,  and  to  go  a-tra vei- 
ling without  money,  and  take  no  thought  of  the  morrow.  Are 
those  exhortations  carried  out  by  very  good  people  in  the  present 
day  ?  Do  Quakers,  when  smitten  on  the  right  cheek,  turn  the  left 
to  the  smiter?  When  asked  for  their  coat,  do  they  say,  "  Friend, 
take  my  shirt  also  ?  "  Has  the  Dean  of  Salisbury  no  purse  ?  Does 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  go  to  an  inn,  run  up  a  reckoning, 
and  then  say  to  his  landlord,  "  Mistress,  I  have  no  coin?"  As- 
suredly the  Dean  has  a  purse,  and  a  tolerably  well-filled  one ; 
and,  assuredly,  the  Archbishop,  on  departing  from  an  inn,  not 
only  settles  his  reckoning,  but  leaves  something  handsome  for 
the  servants,  and  does  not  say  that  he  is  forbidden  by  the  gospel 
to  pay  for  what  he  has  eaten,  or  the  trouble  he  has  given,  as  a 
certain  Spanish  cavalier  said  he  was  forbidden  by  the  statutes 
of  chivalry.  Now,  to  take  the  part  of  yourself,  or  the  part  of  the 


348  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vm. 

oppressed,  with  your  fists,  is  quite  as  lawful  in  the  present  day  as  it 
is  to  refuse  your  coat  and  your  shirt  also  to  any  vagabond  who  may 
ask  for  them,  and  not  to  refuse  to  pay  for  supper,  bed  and  break- 
fast, at  the  Feathers,  or  any  other  inn,  after  you  have  had  the 
benefit  of  all  three. 

The  conduct  of  Lavengro  with  respect  to  drink  may;  upon 
the  whole,  serve  as  a  model.  He  is  no  drunkard,  nor  is  he  fond 
of  intoxicating  other  people ;  yet  when  the  horrors  are  upon  him 
he  has  no  objection  to  go  to  a  public-house  and  call  for  a  pint  of 
ale,  nor  does  he  shrink  from  recommending  ale  to  others  when 
they  are  faint  and  downcast.  In  one  instance,  it  is  true,  he  does 
what  cannot  be  exactly  justified  ;  he  encourages  the  priest  in  the 
dingle,  in  more  instances  than  one,  in  drinking  more  hollands 
and  water  than  is  consistent  with  decorum.  He  has  a  motive 
indeed  in  doing  so ;  a  desire  to  learn  from  the  knave  in  his  cups 
the  plans  and  hopes  of  the  Propaganda  of  Rome.  Such  conduct, 
however,  was  inconsistent  with  strict  fair  dealing  and  openness; 
and  the  author  advises  all  those  whose  consciences  never  reproach 
them  for  a  single  unfair  or  covert  act  committed  by  them,  to 
abuse  him  heartily  for  administering  hollands  and  water  to  the 
Priest  of  Rome.  In  that  instance  the  hero  is  certainly  wrong; 
yet  in  all  other  cases  with  regard  to  drink,  he  is  manifestly  right. 
To  tell  people  that  they  are  never  to  drink  a  glass  of  ale  or  wine 
themselves,  or  to  give  one  to  others,  is  cant ;  and  the  writer  has 
no  toleration  for  cant  of  any  description.  Some  cants  are  not 
dangerous  ;  but  the  writer  believes  that  a  more  dangerous  cant 
than  the  temperance  cant,  or  as  it  is  generally  called,  teetotalism, 
is  scarcely  to  be  found.  The  writer  is  willing  to  believe  that  it 
originated  with  well  meaning,  though  weak  people ;  but  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  it  was  quickly  turned  to  account  by  people  who 
were  neither  well  meaning  nor  weak.  Let  the  reader  note 
particularly  the  purpose  to  which  this  cry  has  been  turned  in 
America — the  land,  indeed,  par  excellence,  of  humbug  and  hum- 
bug cries.  It  is  there  continually  in  the  mouth  of  the  most 
violent  political  party,  and  is  made  an  instrument  of  almost 
unexampled  persecution.  The  writer  would  say  more  on  the 
temperance  cant,  both  in  England  and  America,  but  want  of 
space  prevents  him.  There  is  one  point  on  which  he  cannot 
avoid  making  a  few  brief  remarks — that  is,  the  inconsistent  con- 
duct of  its  apostles  in  general.  The  teetotal  apostle  says,  it  is 
a  dreadful  thing  to  be  drunk.  So  it  is,  teetotaller;  but  if  so,  why 
do  you  get  drunk  ?  I  get  drunk  ?  Yes,  unhappy  man,  why  do 
you  get  drunk  on  smoke  and  passion  ?  Why  are  your  garments 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  349 

impregnated  with  the  odour  of  the  Indian  weed  ?  Why  is  there 
a  pipe  or  a  cigar  always  in  your  mouth  ?  Why  is  your  language 
more  dreadful  than  that  of  a  Poissarde?  Tobacco-smoke  is 
more  deleterious  than  ale,  teetotaller ;  bile  more  potent  than 
brandy.  You  are  fond  of  telling  your  hearers  what  an  awful 
thing  it  is  to  die  drunken.  So  it  is,  teetotaller.  Then  take 
good  care  that  you  do  not  die  with  smoke  and  passion,  drunken, 
and  with  temperance  language  on  your  lips ;  that  is,  abuse  and 
calumny  against  all  those  who  differ  from  you.  One  word  of 
sense  you  have  been  heard  to  say,  which  is,  that  spirits  may  be 
taken  as  a  medicine.  Now  you  are  in  a  fever  of  passion,  tee- 
totaller :  so,  pray  take  this  tumbler  of  brandy ;  take  it  on  the 
homoeopathic  principle,  that  heat  is  to  be  expelled  by  heat.  You 
are  in  a  temperance  fury,  so  swallow  the  contents  of  this  tumbler, 
and  it  will,  perhaps,  cure  you.  You  look  at  the  glass  wistfully — 
you  say  you  occasionally  take  a  glass  medicinally — and  it  is 
probable  you  do.  Take  one  now.  Consider  what  a  dreadful 
thing  it  would  be  to  die  passion  drunk;  to  appear  before  your 
Maker  with  /^temperate  language  on  your  lips.  That's  right ! 
You  don't  seem  to  wince  at  the  brandy.  That's  right ! — well 
done  !  All  down  in  two  pulls.  Now  you  look  like  a  reasonable 
being ! 

If  the  conduct  of  Lavengro  with  regard  to  drink  is  open  to 
little  censure,  assuredly  the  use  which  he  makes  of  his  fists  is 
entitled  to  none  at  all.  Because  he  has  a  pair  of  tolerably  strong 
fists,  and  knows  to  a  certain  extent  how  to  use  them,  is  he  a 
swaggerer  or  oppressor  ?  To  what  ill  account  does  he  turn  them  ? 
Who  more  quiet,  gentle  and  inoffensive  than  he  ?  He  beats  off 
a  ruffian  who  attacks  him  in  a  dingle ;  has  a  kind  of  friendly 
tuzzle  with  Mr.  Petulengro,  and  behold  the  extent  of  his  fistic 
exploits. 

Ay,  but  he  associates  with  prize-fighters ;  and  that  very  fellow, 
Petulengro,  is  a  prize-fighter,  and  has  fought  for  a  stake  in  a  ring. 
Well,  and  if  he  had  not  associated  with  prize-fighters,  how  could 
he  have  used  his  fists  ?  Oh,  anybody  can  use  his  fists  in  his  own 
defence,  without  being  taught  by  prize-fighters.  Can  they  ? 
Then  why  does  not  the  Italian,  or  Spaniard,  or  Afghan  use  his 
fists  when  insulted  or  outraged,  instead  of  having  recourse  to  the 
weapons  which  he  has  recourse  to  ?  Nobody  can  use  his  fists 
without  being  taught  the  use  of  them  by  those  who  have  them- 
selves been  taught,  no  more  than  any  one  can  "whiffle"  without 
being  taught  by  a  master  of  the  art.  Now  let  any  man  of  the 
present  day  try  to  whiffle.  Would  not  any  one  who  wished  to 


350  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vin. 

whiffle  have  to  go  to  a  master  of  the  art  ?  Assuredly  !  but  where 
would  he  find  one  at  the  present  day  ?  The  last  of  the  whifflers 
hanged  himself  about  a  fortnight  ago  on  a  bell-rope  in  a  church 
steeple  of  "the  old  town,"  from  pure  grief  that  there  was  no 
further  demand  for  the  exhibition  of  his  art,  there  being  no 
demand  for  whiffling  since  the  discontinuation  -of  Guildhall  ban- 
quets. Whiffling  is  lost.  The  old  chap  left  his  sword  behind 
him ;  let  any  one  take  up  the  old  chap's  sword  and  try  to  whiffle. 
Now  much  the  same  hand  as  he  would  make  who  should  take  up 
the  whiffler's  sword  and  try  to  whiffle,  would  he  who  should  try 
to  use  his  fists  who  had  never  had  the  advantage  of  a  master. 
Let  no  one  think  that  men  use  their  fists  naturally  in  their  own 
disputes — men  have  naturally  recourse  to  any  other  thing  to 
defend  themselves  or  to  offend  others ;  they  fly  to  the  stick,  to 
the  stone,  to  the  murderous  and  cowardly  knife,  or  to  abuse  as 
cowardly  as  the  knife,  and  occasionally  more  murderous.  Now 
which  is  best  when  you  hate  a  person,  or  have  a  pique  against 
a  person,  to  clench  your  fist  and  say  "Come  on,"  or  to  have 
recourse  to  the  stone,  the  knife,  or  murderous  calumny?  The 
use  of  the  fist  is  almost  lost  in  England.  Yet  are  the  people 
better  than  they  were  when  they  knew  how  to  use  their  fists? 
The  writer  believes  not.  A  fisty  combat  is  at  present  a  great 
rarity,  but  the  use  of  the  knife,  the  noose,  and  of  poison,  to  say 
nothing  of  calumny,  are  of  more  frequent  occurrence  in  England 
than  perhaps  in  any  country  in  Europe.  Is  polite  taste  better 
than  when  it  could  bear  the  details  of  a  fight?  The  writer 
believes  not.  Two  men  cannot  meet  in  a  ring  to  settle  a  dispute 
in  a  manly  manner  without  some  trumpery  local  newspaper 
letting  loose  a  volley  of  abuse  against  "  the  disgraceful  exhibition," 
in  which  abuse  it  is  sure  to  be  sanctioned  by  its  dainty  readers ; 
whereas  some  murderous  horror,  the  discovery  for  example  of  the 
mangled  remains  of  a  woman  in  some  obscure  den,  is  greedily 
seized  hold  on  by  the  moral  journal,  and  dressed  up  for  its 
readers,  who  luxuriate  and  gloat  upon  the  ghastly  dish.  Now, 
the  writer  of  Lavengro  has  no  sympathy  with  those  who  would 
shrink  from  striking  a  blow,  but  would  not  shrink  from  the  use 
of  poison  or  calumny ;  and  his  taste  has  little  in  common  with 
that  which  cannot  tolerate  the  hardy  details  of  a  prize-fight,  but 
which  luxuriates  on  descriptions  of  the  murder  dens  of  modern 
England.  But  prize-fighters  and  pugilists  are  blackguards,  a  re- 
viewer has  said;  and  blackguards  they  would  be  provided  they 
employed  their  skill  and  their  prowess  for  purposes  of  brutality 
and  oppression ;  but  prize-fighters  and  pugilists  are  seldom  friends 


i854-]  APPENDIX.  351 

to  brutality  and  oppression ;  and  which  is  the  blackguard,  the 
writer  would  ask :  he  who  uses  his  fists  to  take  his  own  part,  or 
instructs  others  to  use  theirs  for  the  same  purpose,  or  the  being 
who  from  envy  and  malice,  or  at  the  bidding  of  a  malicious 
scoundrel,  endeavours  by  calumny,  falsehood,  and  misrepresenta- 
tion to  impede  the  efforts  of  lonely  and  unprotected  genius  ? 

One  word  more  about  the  race,  all  but  extinct,  of  the  people 
opprobriously  called  prize-fighters.  Some  of  them  have  been  as 
noble,  kindly  men  as  the  world  ever  produced.  Can  the  rolls  of 
the  English  aristocracy  exhibit  names  belonging  to  more  noble, 
more  heroic  men  than  those  who  were  called  respectively  Pearce, 
Cribb  and  Spring  ?  Did  ever  one  of  the  English  aristocracy  con- 
tract the  seeds  of  fatal  consumption  by  rushing  up  the  stairs  of  a 
burning  edifice,  even  to  the  topmost  garret,  and  rescuing  a  woman 
from  seemingly  inevitable  destruction?  The  writer  says  no.  A 
woman  was  rescued  from  the  top  of  a  burning  house ;  but  the  man 
who  rescued  her  was  no  aristocrat ;  it  was  Pearce,  not  Percy,  who 
ran  up  the  burning  stairs.  Did  ever  one  of  those  glittering  ones 
save  a  fainting  female  from  the  libidinous  rage  of  six  ruffians? 
The  writer  believes  not.  A  woman  was  rescued  from  the  libidinous 

fury  of  six  monsters  on Down ;  but  the  man  who  rescued  her 

was  no  aristocrat;  it  was  Pearce  not  Paulet,  who  rescued  the 
woman,  and  thrashed  my  Lord's  six  gamekeepers — Pearce,  whose 
equal  never  was,  and  probably  never  will  be,  found  in  sturdy 
combat.  Are  there  any  of  the  aristocracy  of  whom  it  can  be  said 
that  they  never  did  a  cowardly,  cruel  or  mean  action,  and  that 
they  invariably  took  the  part  of  the  unfortunate  and  weak  against 
cruelty  and  oppression  ?  As  much  can  be  said  of  Cribb,  of 
Spring,  and  the  other;  but  where  is  the  aristocrat  of  whom  as 
much  can  be  said?  Wellington?  Wellington  indeed!  a  skilful 
general,  and  a  good  man  of  valour,  it  is  true,  but  with  that  cant 
word  of  "  duty  "  continually  on  his  lips.  Did  he  rescue  Ney  from 
his  butchers  ?  Did  he  lend  a  helping  hand  to  Warner  ? 

In  conclusion,  the  writer  would  advise  those  of  his  country- 
folks who  read  his  book  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  two  kinds 
of  canting  nonsense  described  above,  but  in  their  progress  through 
life  to  enjoy  as  well  as  they  can,  but  always  with  moderation,  the 
good  things  of  this  world,  to  put  confidence  in  God,  to  be  as  inde- 
pendent as  possible,  and  to  take  their  own  parts.  If  they  are  low 
spirited,  let  them  not  make  themselves  foolish  by  putting  on 
sackcloth,  drinking  water,  or  chewing  ashes,  but  let  them  take 
wholesome  exercise,  and  eat  the  most  generous  food  they  can  get, 
taking  up  and  reading  occasionally,  not  the  lives  of  Ignatius  Loyola 


352  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  vm. 

and  Francis  Spira,  but  something  more  agreeable ;  for  example, 
the  life  and  adventures  of  Mr.  Duncan  Campbell,  the  deaf  and 
dumb  gentleman;  the  travels  of  Captain  Falconer  in  America, 
and  the  journal  of  John  Randall,  who  went  to  Virginia  and 
married  an  Indian  wife;  not  forgetting,  amidst  their  eating  and 
drinking,  their  walks  over  heaths,  and  by  the  sea-side,  and  their 
agreeable  literature,  to  be  charitable  to  the  poor,  to  read  the  Psalms 
and  to  go  to  church  twice  on  a  Sunday.  In  their  dealings  with 
people,  to  be  courteous  to  everybody,  as  Lavengro  was,  but  always 
independent  like  him ;  and  if  people  meddle  with  them,  to  give 
them  as  good  as  they  bring,  even  as  he  and  Isopel  Berners  were 
in  the  habit  of  doing ;  and  it  will  be  as  well  for  him  to  observe 
that  he  by  no  means  advises  women  to  be  too  womanly,  but  bear- 
ing the  conduct  of  Isopel  Berners  in  mind,  to  take  their  own  parts, 
and  if  anybody  strikes  them,  to  strike  again. 

Beating  of  women  by  the  lords  of  the  creation  has  become  very 
prevalent  in  England  since  pugilism  has  been  discountenanced. 
Now  the  writer  strongly  advises  any  woman  who  is  struck  by  a 
ruffian  to  strike  him  again ;  or  if  she  cannot  clench  her  fists, 
and  he  advises  all  women  in  these  singular  times  to  learn  to  clench 
their  fists,  to  go  at  him  with  tooth  and  nail,  and  not  to  be  afraid 
of  the  result,  for  any  fellow  who  is  dastard  enough  to  strike 
a  woman,  would  allow  himself  to  be  beaten  by  a  woman,  were  she 
to  make  at  him  in  self-defence,  even  if,  instead  of  possessing  the 
stately  height  and  athletic  proportions  of  the  aforesaid  Isopel,  she 
were  as  diminutive  in  stature,  and  had  a  hand  as  delicate,  and 
foot  as  small,  as  a  certain  royal  lady,  who  was  some  time  ago 
assaulted  by  a  fellow  upwards  of  six  feet  high,  whom  the  writer  has 
no  doubt  she  could  have  beaten  had  she  thought  proper  to  go  at 
him.  Such  is  the  deliberate  advice  of  the  author  to  his  country- 
men and  women — advice  in  which  he  believes  there  is  nothing 
unscriptural  or  repugnant  to  common  sense. 

The  writer  is  perfectly  well  aware  that,  by  the  plain  language 
which  he  has  used  in  speaking  of  the  various  kinds  of  nonsense 
prevalent  in  England,  he  shall  make  himself  a  multitude  of  enemies ; 
but  he  is  not  going  to  conceal  the  truth  or  to  tamper  with  nonsense, 
from  the  fear  of  provoking  hostility.  He  has  a  duty  to  perform 
and  he  will  perform  it  resolutely ;  he  is  the  person  who  carried 
the  Bible  to  Spain  ;  and  as  resolutely  as  he  spoke  in  Spain  against 
the  superstitions  of  Spain,  will  he  speak  in  England  against  the 
nonsense  of  his  own  native  land.  He  is  not  one  of  those  who, 
before  they  sit  down  to  write  a  book,  say  to  themselves,  what  cry 
shall  we  take  up?  what  principles  shall  we  advocate?  what  prin- 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  353 

ciples  shall  we  abuse  ?  before  we  put  pen  to  paper  we  must  find 
out  what  cry  is  the  loudest,  what  principle  has  the  most  advocates, 
otherwise,  after  having  written  our  book,  we  may  find  ourselves 
on  the  weaker  side. 

A  sailor  of  the  Bounty  waked  from  his  sleep  by  the  noise  of 
the  mutiny,  lay  still  in  his  hammock  for  some  time,  quite  unde- 
cided whether  to  take  part  with  the  captain  or  to  join  the  mutineers. 
"I  must  mind  what  I  do,1'  said  he  to  himself,  "lest,  in  the  end, 
I  find  myself  on  the  weaker  side ;  "  finally,  on  hearing  that  the 
mutineers  were  successful,  he  went  on  deck,  and  seeing  Bligh 
pinioned  to  the  mast,  he  put  his  fist  to  his  nose,  and  otherwise 
insulted  him.  Now,  there  are  many  writers  of  the  present  day 
whose  conduct  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the  sailor.  They  lie 
listening  in  their  corners  till  they  have  ascertained  which  principle 
has  most  advocates ;  then,  presently,  they  make  their  appearance 
on  the  deck  of  the  world  with  their  book  ;  if  truth  has  been  victori- 
ous, then  has  truth  their  hurrah  !  but  if  truth  is  pinioned  against 
the  mast,  then  is  their  fist  thrust  against  the  nose  of  truth,  and 
their  gibe  and  their  insult  spurted  in  their  face.  The  strongest 
party  had  the  sailor,  and  the  strongest  party  has  almost  invariably 
the  writer  of  the  present  day. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PSEUDO-CRITICS. 

A  CERTAIN  set  of  individuals  calling  themselves  critics  have  attacked 
Lavengro  with  much  virulence  and  malice.  If  what  they  call 
criticism  had  been  founded  on  truth,  the  author  would  have  had 
nothing  to  say.  The  book  contains  plenty  of  blemishes,  some  of 
them,  by-the-bye,  wilful  ones,  as  the  writer  will  presently  show ; 
not  one  of  these,  however,  has  been  detected  and  pointed  out ;  but 
the  best  passages  in  the  book,  indeed  whatever  was  calculated  to 
make  the  book  valuable,  have  been  assailed  with  abuse  and  mis- 
representation. The  duty  of  the  true  critic  is  to  play  the  part  of 
a  leech,  and  not  of  a  viper.  Upon  true  and  upon  malignant 
criticism  there  is  an  excellent  fable  by  the  Spaniard  Iriarte.  The 
viper  says  to  the  leech,  "  Why  do  people  invite  your  bite,  and  flee 
from  mine  ?  "  "  Because,"  says  the  leech,  "  people  receive  health 
from  my  bite,  and  poison  from  yours."  "There  is  as  much  differ- 
ence," says  the  clever  Spaniard,  "between  true  and  malignant 
criticism,  as  between  poison  and  medicine."  Certainly  a  great 
many  meritorious  writers  have  allowed  themselves  to  be  poisoned 
by  malignant  criticism  ;  the  writer,  however,  is  not  one  of  those 
who  allow  themselves  to  be  poisoned  by  pseudo-critics ;  no  !  no  ! 
he  will  rather  hold  them  up  by  their  tails,  and  show  the  creatures 
wriggling,  blood  and  foam  streaming  from  their  broken  jaws. 
First  of  all,  however,  he  will  notice  one  of  their  objections. 
"  The  book  isn't  true,"  say  they.  Now  one  of  the  principal  reasons 
with  those  who  have  attacked  Lavengro  for  their  abuse  of  it  is, 
that  it  is  particularly  true  in  one  instance,  namely,  that  it  exposes 
their  own  nonsense,  their  love  of  humbug,  their  slavishness,  their 
dressings,  their  goings  out,  their  scraping  and  bowing  to  great 
people  ;  it  is  the  showing  up  of  "  gentility  nonsense  "  in  Lavengro 
that  has  been  one  principal  reason  for  the  raising  the  above  cry  ;  for 
in  Lavengro,  is  denounced  the  besetting  folly  of  the  English  people, 
a  folly  which  those  who  call  themselves  guardians  of  the  public 
taste  are  far  from  being  above.  "  We  can't  abide  anything  that 
isn't  true!"  they  exclaim.  Can't  they?  Then  why  are  they  so 
enraptured  with  any  fiction  that  is  adapted  to  purposes  of  humbug, 
which  tends  to  make  them  satisfied  with  their  own  proceedings, 

(354) 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  355 

with  their  own  nonsense,  which  does  not  tell  them  to  reform, 
to  become  more  alive  to  their  own  failings,  and  less  sensitive  about 
the  tyrannical  goings  on  of  the  masters,  and  the  degraded  condition, 
the  sufferings,  and  the  trials  of  the  serfs  in  the  star  Jupiter  ?  Had 
Lavengro,  instead  of  being  the  work  of  an  independent  mind,  been 
written  in  order  to  further  any  of  the  thousand  and  one  cants,  and 
species  of  nonsense  prevalent  in  England,  the  author  would  have 
heard  much  less  about  its  not  being  true,  both  from  public 
detractors  and  private  censurers. 

"  But  Lavengro  pretends  to  be  an  autobiography,"  say  the 
critics ;  and  here  the  writer  begs  leave  to  observe,  that  it  would 
be  well  for  people  who  profess  to  have  a  regard  for  truth,  not  to 
exhibit  in  every  assertion  which  they  make  a  most  profligate 
disregard  of  it ;  this  assertion  of  theirs  is  a  falsehood,  and  they 
know  it  to  be  a  falsehood.  In  the  preface  Lavengro  is  stated  to 
be  a  dream ;  and  the  writer  takes  this  opportunity  of  stating  that 
he  never  said  it  was  an  autobiography;  never  authorised  any 
person  to  say  that  it  was  one ;  and  that  he  has  in  innumerable 
instances  declared  in  public  and  private,  both  before  and  after  the 
work  was  published,  that  it  was  not  what  is  generally  termed  an 
autobiography :  but  a  set  of  people  who  pretend  to  write  criticisms 
on  books,  hating  the  author  for  various  reasons — amongst  others, 
because,  having  the  proper  pride  of  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar, 
he  did  not,  in  the  year  '43,  choose  to  permit  himself  to  be  ex- 
hibited and  made  a  zany  of  in  London,  and  especially  because  he 
will  neither  associate  with,  nor  curry  favour  with,  them  who  are 
neither  gentlemen  nor  scholars — attack  his  book  with  abuse  and 
calumny.  He  is,  perhaps,  condescending  too  much  when  he 
takes  any  notice  of  such  people ;  as,  however,  the  English  public 
is  wonderfully  led  by  cries  and  shouts,  and  generally  ready  to  take 
part  against  any  person  who  is  either  unwilling  or  unable  to  de- 
fend himself,  he  deems  it  advisable  not  to  be  altogether  quiet 
with  those  who  assail  him.  The  best  way  to  deal  with  vipers  is 
to  tear  out  their  teeth ;  and  the  best  way  to  deal  with  pseudo- 
critics  is  to  deprive  them  of  their  poison-bag,  which  is  easily  done 
by  exposing  their  ignorance.  The  writer  knew  perfectly  well  the 
description  of  people  with  whom  he  would  have  to  do,  he  there- 
fore very  quietly  prepared  a  stratagem,  by  means  of  which  he 
could  at  any  time  exhibit  them,  powerless  and  helpless,  in  his 
hand.  Critics,  when  they  review  books,  ought  to  have  a  com- 
petent knowledge  of  the  subjects  which  those  books  discuss. 

Lavengro  is  a  philological  book,  a  poem  if  you  choose  to  call 
it  so.  Now  what  a  fine  triumph  it  would  have  been  for  those 


356  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  ix. 

who  wished  to  vilify  the  book  and  its  author,  provided  they  could 
have  detected  the  latter  tripping  in  his  philology — they  might 
have  instantly  said  that  he  was  an  ignorant  pretender  to  philology 
— they  laughed  at  the  idea  of  his  taking  up  a  viper  by  its  tail,  a 
trick  which  hundreds  of  country  urchins  do  every  September,  but 
they  were  silent  about  the  really  wonderful  part  of  the  book,  the 
philological  matter — they  thought  philology  was  his  stronghold, 
and  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attack  him  there ;  they  of  course 
would  give  him  no  credit  as  a  philologist,  for  anything  like  fair  treat- 
ment towards  him  was  not  to  be  expected  at  their  hands,  but  they 
were  afraid  to  attack  his  philology — yet  that  was  the  point,  and 
the  only  point  in  which  they  might  have  attacked  him  success- 
fully ;  he  was  vulnerable  there.  How  was  this  ?  Why,  in  order 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  holding  up  pseudo-critics  by  the  tails, 
he  wilfully  spelt  various  foreign  words  wrong — Welsh  words,  and 
even  Italian  words — did  they  detect  these  mis-spellings  ?  not  one 
of  them,  even  as  he  knew  they  would  not,  and  he  now  taunts 
them  with  ignorance ;  and  the  power  of  taunting  them  with  ignor- 
ance is  the  punishment  which  he  designed  for  them— a  power 
which  they  might  but  for  their  ignorance  have  used  against  him. 
The  writer  besides  knowing  something  of  Italian  and  Welsh, 
knows  a  little  of  Armenian  language  and  literature ;  but  who 
knowing  anything  of  the  Armenian  language,  unless  he  had  an 
end  in  view,  would  say,  that  the  word  for  sea  in  Armenian  is 
anything  like  the  word  tide  in  English?  The  word  for  sea  in 
Armenian  is  dzow,  a  word  connected  with  the  Tibetian  word  for 
water,  and  the  Chinese  shuy,  and  the  Turkish  su,  signifying  the 
same  thing ;  but  where  is  the  resemblance  between  dzow  and 
tide?  Again,  the  word  for  bread  in  ancient  Armenian  is  hats ; 
yet  the  Armenian  on  London  Bridge  is  made  to  say  zhats,  which 
is  not  the  nominative  of  the  Armenian  noun  for  bread,  but  the 
accusative :  now,  critics,  ravening  against  a  man  because  he  is  a 
gentleman  and  a  scholar,  and  has  not  only  the  power  but  also  the 
courage  to  write  original  works,  why  did  not  you  discover  that 
weak  point?  Why,  because  you  were  ignorant,  so  here  ye  are 
held  up !  Moreover,  who  with  a  name  commencing  with  Z,  ever 
wrote  fables  in  Armenian?  There  are  two  writers  of  fables  in 
Armenian — Varthan  and  Koscht,  and  illustrious  writers  they  are, 
one  in  the  simple,  and  the  other  in  the  ornate  style  of  Armenian 
composition,  but  neither  of  their  names  begins  with  a  Z.  Oh,  what 
a  precious  opportunity  ye  lost,  ye  ravening  crew,  of  convicting  the 
poor,  half-starved,  friendless  boy  of  the  book,  of  ignorance  or 
misrepresentation,  by  asking  who  with  a  name  beginning  with  Z 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  357 

ever  wrote  fables  in  Armenian ;  but  ye  couldn't  help  yourselves, 
ye  are  duncie.  "  We  duncie  ! "  Ay,  duncie.  So  here  ye  are  held 
up  by  the  tails,  blood  and  foam  streaming  from  your  jaws. 

The  writer  wishes  to  ask  here,  what  do  you  think  of  all  this, 
Messieurs  les  Critiques'!  Were  ye  ever  served  so  before?  But 
don't  you  richly  deserve  it?  Haven't  you  been  for  years  past 
bullying  and  insulting  everybody  whom  you  deemed  weak,  and 
currying  favour  with  everybody  whom  you  thought  strong  ?  "  We 
approve  of  this.  We  disapprove  of  that.  Oh,  this  will  never 
do.  These  are  fine  lines ! "  The  lines  perhaps  some  horrid 
sycophantic  rubbish  addressed  to  Wellington,  or  Lord  So-and-so. 
To  have  your  ignorance  thus  exposed,  to  be  shown  up  in  this 
manner,  and  by  whom  ?  A  gypsy !  Ay,  a  gypsy  was  the  very 
right  person  to  do  it.  But  is  it  not  galling,  after  all  ? 

Ah,  but  we  don't  understand  Armenian,  it  cannot  be  expected 

that  we  should  understand  Armenian,  or  Welsh,  or .  Hey, 

what's  this  ?  The  mighty  we  not  understand  Armenian  or  Welsh, 

or .  Then  why  does  the  mighty  we  pretend  to  review  a 

book  like  Lavengro  1  From  the  arrogance  with  which  it  con- 
tinually delivers  itself,  one  would  think  that  the  mighty  we  is 
omniscient;  that  it  understands  every  language;  is  versed  in 
every  literature ;  yet  the  mighty  we  does  not  even  know  the  word 
for  bread  in  Armenian.  It  knows  bread  well  enough  by  name 
in  English,  and  frequently  bread  in  England  only  by  its  name, 
but  the  truth  is,  that  the  mighty  wey  with  all  its  pretension,  is  in 
general  a  very  sorry  creature,  who,  instead  of  saying  nous  disons, 
should  rather  say  nous  dis :  Parny  in  his  Guerre  des  Dieux, 
very  profanely  makes  the  three  in  one  say,  Je  faisons  ;  now, 
Lavengro,  who  is  anything  but  profane,  would  suggest  that  critics, 
especially  magazine  and  Sunday  newspaper  critics,  should  com- 
mence with  nous  dis,  as  the  first  word  would  be  significant  of 
the  conceit  and  assumption  of  the  critic,  and  the  second  of  the 
extent  of  the  critic's  information.  The  we  says  its  say,  but  when 
fawning  sycophancy  or  vulgar  abuse  are  taken  from  that  say, 
what  remains?  Why  a  blank,  a  void,  like  Gtnnungagap. 

As  the  writer,  of  his  own  accord,  has  exposed  some  of  the 
blemishes  of  his  book — a  task,  which  a  competent  critic  ought  to 
have  done — he  will  now  point  out  two  or  three  of  its  merits, 
which  any  critic,  not  altogether  blinded  with  ignorance,  might 
have  done,  or  not  replete  with  gall  and  envy  would  have  been 
glad  to  do.  The  book  has  the  merit  of  communicating  a  fact 
connected  with  physiology,  which  in  all  the  pages  of  the  multitude 
of  books  was  never  previously  mentioned — the  mysterious  practice 


35«  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  ix. 

of  touching  objects  to  baffle  the  evil  chance.  The  miserable 
detractor  will,  of  course,  instantly  begin  to  rave  about  such  a 
habit  being  common  :  well  and  good ;  but  was  it  ever  before 
described  in  print,  or  all  connected  with  it  dissected?  He  may 
then  vociferate  something  about  Johnson  having  touched :  the 
writer  cares  not  whether  Johnson,  who,  by-the-bye,  during  the 
last  twenty  or  thirty  years,  owing  to  people  having  become  ultra 
Tory  mad  from  reading  Scott's  novels  and  the  Quarterly  Review, 
has  been  a  mighty  favourite,  especially  with  some  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  calling  him  a  half  crazy  old  fool — touched,  or  whether 
he  did  or  not ;  but  he  asks  where  did  Johnson  ever  describe  the 
feelings  which  induced  him  to  perform  the  magic  touch,  even 
supposing  that  he  did  perform  it?  Again,  the  history  gives  an 
account  of  a  certain  book  called  the  Sleeping  Bard,  the  most 
remarkable  prose  work  of  the  most  difficult  language  but  one,  of 
modern  Europe, — a  book,  for  a  notice  of  which,  he  believes,  one 
might  turn  over  in  vain  the  pages  of  any  Review  printed  in 
England,  or,  indeed,  elsewhere.  So  here  are  two  facts,  one 
literary  and  the  other  physiological,  for  which  any  candid  critic 
was  bound  to  thank  the  author,  even  as  in  the  Romany  Rye  there 
is  a  fact  connected  with  Iro-Norman  Myth,  for  the  disclosing  of 
which,  any  person  who  pretends  to  have  a  regard  for  literature  is 
bound  to  thank  him,  namely,  that  the  mysterious  Finn  or  Fingal 
of  Ossian's  Poems  is  one  and  the  same  person  as  the  Sigurd 
Fafnisbane  of  the  Edda  and  the  Wilkina,  and  the  Siegfried  Horn 
of  the  Lay  of  the  Niebelungs. 

The  writer  might  here  conclude,  and,  he  believes,  most 
triumphantly ;  as,  however,  he  is  in  the  cue  for  writing,  which  he 
seldom  is,  he  will  for  his  own  gratification,  and  for  the  sake  of 
others,  dropping  metaphors  about  vipers  and  serpents,  show  up 
in  particular  two  or  three  sets  or  cliques  of  people,  who,  he  is 
happy  to  say,  have  been  particularly  virulent  against  him  and 
his  work,  for  nothing  indeed  could  have  given  him  greater  morti- 
fication than  their  praise. 

In  the  first  place,  he  wishes  to  dispose  of  certain  individuals 
who  call  themselves  men  of  wit  and  fashion — about  town — who 
he  is  told  have  abused  his  book  "  vaustly  " — their  own  word.  These 
people  paint  their  cheeks,  wear  white  kid  gloves,  and  dabble  in 
literature,  or  what  they  conceive  to  be  literature.  For  abuse 
from  such  people,  the  writer  was  prepared.  Does  any  one 
imagine  that  the  writer  was  not  well  aware,  before  he  published 
his  book,  that,  whenever  he  gave  it  to  the  world,  he  should  be 
attacked  by  every  literary  coxcomb  in  England  who  had  influence 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  359 

enough  to  procure  the  insertion  of  a  scurrilous  article  in  a 
magazine  or  newspaper!  He  has  been  in  Spain,  and  has  seen 
how  invariably  the  mule  attacks  the  horse;  now  why  does  the 
mule  attack  the  horse?  Why,  because  the  latter  carries  about 
with  him  that  which  the  envious  hermaphrodite  does  not  possess. 

They  consider,  forsooth,  that  his  book  is  low — but  he  is  not 
going  to  waste  words  about  them — one  or  two  of  whom,  he  is 
told,  have  written  very  duncie  books  about  Spain,  and  are  highly 
enraged  with  him,  because  certain  books  which  he  wrote  about 
Spain  were  not  considered  duncie.  No,  he  is  not  going  to  waste 
words  upon  them,  for  verily  he  dislikes  their  company,  and  so 
he'll  pass  them  by,  and  proceed  to  others. 

The  Scotch  Charlie  o'er  the  water  people  have  been  very 
loud  in  the  abuse  of  Lavengro — this  again  might  be  expected ; 
the  sarcasms  of  the  priest  about  the  Charlie  o'er  the  water 
nonsense  of  course  stung  them.  Oh !  it  is  one  of  the  claims 
which  Lavengro  has  to  respect,  that  it  is  the  first,  if  not  the  only 
work,  in  which  that  nonsense  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  exposed. 
Two  or  three  of  their  remarks  on  passages  of  Lavengro,  he  will 
reproduce  and  laugh  at.  Of  course  your  Charlie  o'er  the  water 
people  are  genteel  exceedingly,  and  cannot  abide  anything  low. 
Gypsyism  they  think  is  particularly  low,  and  the  use  of  gypsy 
words  in  literature  beneath  its  gentility ;  so  they  object  to  gypsy 
words  being  used  in  Lavengro  where  gypsies  are  introduced 
speaking — "What  is  Romany  forsooth?"  say  they.  Very  good! 
And  what  is  Scotch?  has  not  the  public  been  nauseated  with 
Scotch  for  the  last  thirty  years?  "Ah,  but  Scotch  is  not" — the 
writer  believes  he  knows  much  better  than  the  Scotch  what  Scotch 
is  and  what  it  is  not ;  he  has  told  them  before  what  it  is  :  a  very 
sorry  jargon.  He  will  now  tell  them  what  it  is  not — a  sister  or 
an  immediate  daughter  of  the  Sanscrit,  which  Romany  is.  "  Ay, 
but  the  Scotch  are" — foxes,  foxes,  nothing  else  than  foxes,  even 
like  the  gypsies — the  difference  between  the  gypsy  and  Scotch 
fox  being  that  the  first  is  wild,  with  a  mighty  brush,  the  other  a 
sneak  with  a  gilt  collar  and  without  a  tail. 

A  Charlie  o'er  the  water  person  attempts  to  be  witty,  because 
the  writer  has  said  that  perhaps  a  certain  old  Edinburgh  High- 
School  porter,  of  the  name  of  Boee,  was  perhaps  of  the  same 
blood  as  a  certain  Bui,  a  Northern  Kemp  who  distinguished 
himself  at  the  battle  of  Horinger  Bay.  A  pretty  matter,  forsooth, 
to  excite  the  ridicule  of  a  Scotchman !  Why,  is  there  a  beggar 
or  trumpery  fellow  in  Scotland,  who  does  not  pretend  to  be 
somebody,  or  related  to  somebody?  Is  not  every  Scotchman 


360  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  ix. 

descended  from  some  king,  kemp  or  cow-stealer  of  old,  by  his 
own  account  at  least?  Why,  the  writer  would  even  go  so  far  as 
to  bet  a  trifle  that  the  poor  creature,  who  ridicules  Boee's 
supposed  ancestry,  has  one  of  his  own,  at  least  as  grand  and  as 
apocryphal  as  old  Boee's  of  the  High  School. 

The  same  Charlie  o'er  the  water  person  is  mightily  indignant 
that  Lavengro  should  have  spoken  disrespectfully  of  William 
Wallace;  Lavengro,  when  he  speaks  of  that  personage,  being  a 
child  of  about  ten  years  old,  and  repeating  merely  what  he  had 
heard.  All  the  Scotch,  by-the-bye,  for  a  great  many  years  past, 
have  been  great  admirers  of  William  Wallace,  particularly  the 
Charlie  o'er  the  water  people,  who  in  their  nonsense-verses  about 
Charlie  generally  contrive  to  bring  in  the  name  of  William, 
Willie,  or  Wullie,  Wallace.  The  writer  begs  leave  to  say  that  he 
by  no  means  wishes  to  bear  hard  against  William  Wallace,  but  he 
cannot  help  asking  why,  if  William,  Willie,  or  Wullie,  Wallace 
was  such  a  particularly  nice  person,  did  his  brother  Scots  betray 
him  to  a  certain  renowned  southern  warrior,  called  Edward 
Longshanks,  who  caused  him  to  be  hanged  and  cut  into  four  in 
London,  and  his  quarters  to  be  placed  over  the  gates  of  certain 
towns  ?  They  got  gold,  it  is  true,  and  titles,  very  nice  things,  no 
doubt;  but,  surely,  the  life  of  a  patriot  is  better  than  all  the  gold 
and  titles  in  the  world — at  least  Lavengro  thinks  so — but  Lavengro 
has  lived  more  with  gypsies  than  Scotchmen,  and  gypsies  do  not 
betray  their  brothers.  It  would  be  some  time  before  a  gypsy 
would  hand  over  his  brother  to  the  harum-beck,  even  supposing 
you  would  not  only  make  him  a  king,  but  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
and  not  only  give  him  the  world,  but  the  best  farm  on  the 
Holkham  estate ;  but  gypsies  are  wild  foxes,  and  there  is  certainly 
a  wonderful  difference  between  the  way  of  thinking  of  the  wild 
fox  who  retains  his  brush,  and  that  of  the  scurvy  kennel  creature 
who  has  lost  his  tail. 

Ah  !  but  thousands  of  Scotch,  and  particularly  the  Charlie  o'er 
the  water  people,  will  say,  "  We  didn't  sell  Willie  Wallace,  it  was 

our  forbears  who  sold  Willie  Wallace If  Edward  Longshanks 

had  asked  us  to  sell  Wullie  Wallace,  we  would  soon  have  shown 

him  that "     Lord  better  ye,  ye  poor  trumpery  set  of  creatures, 

ye  would  not  have  acted  a  bit  better  than  your  forefathers ;  re- 
member how  ye  have  ever  treated  the  few  amongst  ye  who,  though 
born  in  the  kennel,  have  shown  something  of  the  spirit  of  the 
wood.  Many  of  ye  are  still  alive  who  delivered  over  men,  quite 
as  honest  and  patriotic  as  William  Wallace,  into  the  hands  of  an 
English  minister,  to  be  chained  arid  transported  for  merely 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  361 

venturing  to  speak  and  write  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  at  the 
time  when  Europe  was  beginning  to  fling  off  the  chains  imposed 
by  kings  and  priests.  And  it  is  not  so  very  long  since  Burns,  to 
whom  ye  are  now  building  up  obelisks  rather  higher  than  he 
deserves,  was  permitted  by  his  countrymen  to  die  in  poverty  and 
misery,  because  he  would  not  join  with  them  in  songs  of  adulation 
to  kings  and  the  trumpery  great.  So  say  not  that  ye  would  have 
acted  with  respect  to  William  Wallace  one  whit  better  than  your 
fathers — and  you  in  particular,  ye  children  of  Charlie,  whom  do 
ye  write  nonsense- verses  about?  A  family  of  dastard  despots, 
who  did  their  best,  during  a  century  and  more,  to  tread  out  the 
few  sparks  of  independent  feeling  still  glowing  in  Scotland — but 
enough  has  been  said  about  ye. 

Amongst  those  who  have  been  prodigal  in  abuse  and  defama- 
tion of  Lavengro,  have  been  your  modern  Radicals,  and  particu- 
larly a  set  of  people  who  filled  the  country  with  noise  against  the 
King  and  Queen,  Wellington,  and  the  Tories,  in  '32.  About 
these  people  the  writer  will  presently  have  occasion  to  say  a  good 
deal,  and  also  of  real  Radicals.  As,  however,  it  may  be  supposed 
that  he  is  one  of  those  who  delight  to  play  the  sycophant  to  kings 
and  queens,  to  curry  favour  with  Tories,  and  to  bepraise  Welling- 
ton, he  begs  leave  to  state  that  such  is  not  the  case. 

About  kings  and  queens  he  has  nothing  to  say ;  about  Tories, 
simply  that  he  believes  them  to  be  a  bad  set ;  about  Wellington, 
however,  it  will  be  necessary  for  him  to  say  a  good  deal,  of  mixed 
import,  as  he  will  subsequently  frequently  have  occasion  to 
mention  him  in  connection  with  what  he  has  to  say  about  pseudo- 
Radicals. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PSEUDO-RADICALS. 

ABOUT  Wellington,  then,  he  says,  that  he  believes  him  at  the 
present  day  to  be  infinitely  overrated.  But  there  certainly  was  a 
time  when  he  was  shamefully  underrated.  Now  what  time  was 
that  ?  Why  the  time  of  pseudo-Radicalism,  par  excellence,  from 
'20  to  '32.  Oh,  the  abuse  that  was  heaped  on  Wellington  by 
those  who  traded  in  Radical  cant — your  newspaper  editors  and 
review  writers !  and  how  he  was  sneered  at  then  by  your  Whigs, 
and  how  faintly  supported  he  was  by  your  Tories,  who  were  half 
ashamed  of  him;  for  your  Tories,  though  capital  fellows  as 
followers,  when  you  want  nobody  to  back  you,  are  the  faintest 
creatures  in  the  world  when  you  cry  in  your  agony,  "  Come  and 
help  me  ! "  Oh,  assuredly  Wellington  was  infamously  used  at  that 
time,  especially  by  your  traders  in  Radicalism,  who  howled  at  and 
hooted  him  ;  said  he  had  every  vice — was  no  general — was  beaten 
at  Waterloo — was  a  poltroon — moreover  a  poor  illiterate  creature, 
who  could  scarcely  read  or  write ;  nay,  a  principal  Radical  paper 
said  bodily  he  could  not  read,  and  devised  an  ingenious  plan  for 
teaching  Wellington  how  to  read.  Now  this  was  too  bad ;  and 
the  writer,  being  a  lover  of  justice,  frequently  spoke  up  for  Welling- 
ton, saying,  that  as  for  vice,  he  was  not  worse  than  his  neighbours ; 
that  he  was  brave ;  that  he  won  the  fight  at  Waterloo,  from  a  half- 
dead  man,  it  is  true,  but  that  he  did  win  it.  Also,  that  he  believed 
he  had  read  Rules  for  the  Manual  and  Platoon  Exercises  to  some 
purpose ;  moreover,  that  he  was  sure  he  could  write,  for  that  he 
the  writer  had  once  written  to  Wellington,  and  had  received  an 
answer  from  him  ;  nay,  the  writer  once  went  so  far  as  to  strike  a 
blow  for  Wellington  ;  for  the  last  time  he  used  his  fists  was  upon 
a  Radical  sub-editor,  who  was  mobbing  Wellington  in  the  street, 
from  behind  a  rank  of  grimy  fellows.  But  though  the  writer  spoke 
up  for  Wellington  to  a  certain  extent  when  he  was  shamefully 
underrated,  and  once  struck  a  blow  for  him  when  he  was  about 
being  hustled,  he  is  not  going  to  join  in  the  loathsome  sycophantic 
nonsense  which  it  has  been  the  fashion  to  use  with  respect  to 
Wellington  these  last  twenty  years.  Now  what  have  those  years 
been  to  England !  Why  the  years  of  ultra-gentility,  everybody  in 
England  having  gone  gentility  mad  during  the  last  twenty  years, 
and  no  people  more  so  than  your  pseudo-Radicals.  Wellington 

(362) 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  363 

was  turned  out,  and  your  Whigs  and  Radicals  got  in,  and  then 
commenced  the  period  of  ultra-gentility  in  England.  The  Whigs 
and  Radicals  only  hated  Wellington  as  long  as  the  patronage  of 
the  country  was  in  his  hands,  none  of  which  they  were  tolerably 
sure  he  would  bestow  on  them ;  but  no  sooner  did  they  get  it 
into  their  own,  than  they  forthwith  became  admirers  of  Welling- 
ton. And  why?  Because  he  was  a  duke,  petted  at  Windsor  and 
by  foreign  princes,  and  a  very  genteel  personage.  Formerly  many 
of  your  Whigs  and  Radicals  had  scarcely  a  decent  coat  on  their 
backs ;  but  now  the  plunder  of  the  country  was  at  their  disposal, 
and  they  had  as  good  a  chance  of  being  genteel  as  any  people. 
So  they  were  willing  to  worship  Wellington  because  he  was  very 
genteel,  and  could  not  keep  the  plunder  of  the  country  out  of 
their  hands.  And  Wellington  has  been  worshipped,  and  prettily 
so,  during  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years.  He  is  now  a  noble  fine- 
hearted  creature ;  the  greatest  general  the  world  ever  produced ; 
the  bravest  of  men ;  and — and — mercy  upon  us  !  the  greatest 
of  military  writers  !  Now  the  present  writer  will  not  join  in  such 
sycophancy.  As  he  was  not  afraid  to  take  the  part  of  Wellington 
when  he  was  scurvily  used  by  all  parties,  and  when  it  was 
dangerous  to  take  his  part,  so  he  is  not  afraid  to  speak  the  naked 
truth  about  Wellington  in  these  days,  when  it  is  dangerous  to  say 
anything  about  him  but  what  is  sycophantically  laudatory.  He 
said  in  '32,  that  as  to  vice,  Wellington  was  not  worse  than  his 
neighbours ;  but  he  is  not  going  to  say  in  '54,  that  Wellington 
was  a  noble-hearted  fellow ;  for  he  believes  that  a  more  cold- 
hearted  individual  never  existed.  His  conduct  to  Warner,  the 
poor  Vaudois,  and  Marshal  Ney,  showed  that.  He  said  in  '32, 
that  he  was  a  good  general  and  a  brave  man ;  but  he  is  not  going, 
in  '54,  to  say  that  he  was  the  best  general,  or  the  bravest  man,  the 
world  ever  saw.  England  has  produced  a  better  general — France 
two  or  three — both  countries  many  braver  men.  The  son  of  the 
Norfolk  clergyman  was  a  brave  man ;  Marshal  Ney  was  a  braver 
man.  Oh,  that  battle  of  Copenhagen  !  Oh,  that  covering  the 
retreat  of  the  Grand  Army !  And  though  he  said  in  '32  that  he 
could  write,  he  is  not  going  to  say  in  '54  that  he  is  the  best  of  all 
military  writers.  On  the  contrary,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  any  Commentary  of  Julius  Caesar,  or  any  chapter  in  Justinus, 
more  especially  the  one  about  the  Parthians,  is  worth  the  ten 
volumes  of  Wellington's  Despatches;  though  he  has  no  doubt 
that,  by  saying  so,  he  shall  especially  rouse  the  indignation  of  a 
certain  newspaper,  at  present  one  of  the  most  genteel  journals 
imaginable — with  a  slight  tendency  to  liberalism,  it  is  true,  but 


364  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  x. 

perfectly  genteel — which  is  nevertheless  the  very  one  which,  in 
'32,  swore  bodily  that  Wellington  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
and  devised  an  ingenious  plan  for  teaching  him  how  to  read. 

Now,  after  the  above  statement,  no  one  will  venture  to  say,  if 
the  writer  should  be  disposed  to  bear  hard  upon  Radicals,  that  he 
would  be  influenced  by  a  desire  to  pay  court  to  princes,  or  to  curry 
favour  with  Tories,  or  from  being  a  blind  admirer  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington ;  but  the  writer  is  not  going  to  declaim  against  Radi- 
cals, that  is,  real  Republicans,  or  their  principles ;  upon  the  whole, 
he  is  something  of  an  admirer  of  both.  The  writer  has  always 
had  as  much  admiration  for  everything  that  is  real  and  honest  as 
he  has  had  contempt  for  the  opposite.  Now  real  Republicanism 
is  certainly  a  very  fine  thing,  a  much  finer  thing  than  Toryism, 
a  system  of  common  robbery,  which  is  nevertheless  far  better 
than  Whiggism  * — a  compound  of  petty  larceny,  popular  instruc- 
tion, and  receiving  of  stolen  goods.  Yes,  real  Republicanism  is 
certainly  a  very  fine  thing,  and  your  real  Radicals  and  Republicans 
are  certainly  very  fine  fellows,  or  rather  were  fine  fellows,  for  the 
Lord  only  knows  where  to  find  them  at  the  present  day — the 
writer  does  not.  If  he  did,  he  would  at  any  time  go  five  miles 
to  invite  one  of  them  to  dinner,  even  supposing  that  he  had  to 
go  to  a  workhouse  in  order  to  find  the  person  he  wished  to  invite. 
Amongst  the  real  Radicals  of  England,  those  who  flourished  from 
the  year  '16  to  '20,  there  were  certainly  extraordinary  characters, 
men  partially  insane,  perhaps,  but  honest  and  brave — they  did 
not  make  a  market  of  the  principles  which  they  professed,  and 
never  intended  to  do  so ;  they  believed  in  them,  and  were  willing 
to  risk  their  lives  in  endeavouring  to  carry  them  out.  The  writer 
wishes  to  speak  in  particular  of  two  of  these  men,  both  of  whom 
perished  on  the  scaffold — their  names  were  Thistlewood  and  Ings. 

*  As  the  present  work  will  come  out  in  the  midst  of  a  vehement  political 
contest,  people  may  be  led  to  suppose  that  the  above  was  written  expressly  for 
the  time.  The  writer  therefore  begs  to  state  that  it  was  written  in  the  year  1854.  He 
cannot  help  adding  that  he  is  neither  Whig,  Tory,  nor  Radical,  and  cares  not  a 
straw  what  party  governs  England,  provided  it  is  governed  well.  But  he  has  no 
hopes  of  good  government  from  the  Whigs.  It  is  true  that  amongst  them  there 
is  one  very  great  man,  Lord  Palmerston,  who  is  indeed  the  sword  and  buckler, 
the  chariots  and  the  horses  of  the  party  ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  his  lordship  to 
govern  well  with  such  colleagues  as  he  has— colleagues  which  have  been  forced 
upon  him  by  family  influence,  and  who  are  continually  pestering  him  into  measures 
anything  but  conducive  to  the  country's  honour  and  interest.  If  Palmerston  would 
govern  well,  he  must  get  rid  of  them  ;  but  from  that  step,  with  all  his  courage  and 
all  his  greatness,  he  will  shrink.  Yet  how  proper  and  easy  a  step  it  would  be  1 
He  could  easily  get  better,  but  scarcely  worse,  associates.  They  appear  to  have 
one  object  in  view  and  only  one— jobbery.  It  was  chiefly  owing  to  a  most  flagitious 
piece  of  jobbery,  which  one  of  his  lordship's  principal  colleagues  sanctioned  and 
promoted,  that  his  lordship  experienced  his  late  parliamentary  disasters. 


i854-]  APPENDIX.  365 

Thistlewood,  the  best  known  of  them,  was  a  brave  soldier  and 
had  served  with  distinction  as  an  officer  in  the  French  service ; 
he  was  one  of  the  excellent  swordsmen  of  Europe;  had  fought 
several  duels  in  France,  where  it  is  no  child's  play  to  fight  a  duel ; 
but  had  never  unsheathed  his  sword  for  single  combat,  but  in 
defence  of  the  feeble  and  insulted — he  was  kind  and  open- 
hearted,  but  of  too  great  simplicity ;  he  had  once  ten  thousand 
pounds  left  him,  all  of  which  he  lent  to  a  friend,  who  disappeared 
and  never  returned  him  a  penny.  Ings  was  an  uneducated  man, 
of  very  low  stature,  but  amazing  strength  and  resolution ;  he  was 
a  kind  husband  and  father,  and  though  a  humble  butcher,  the 
name  he  bore  was  one  of  the  royal  names  of  the  heathen  Anglo- 
Saxons.  These  two  men,  along  with  five  others,  were  executed, 
and  their  heads  hacked  off,  for  levying  war  against  George  the 
Fourth  ;  the  whole  seven  dying  in  a  manner  which  extorted  cheers 
from  the  populace,  the  most  of  them  uttering  philosophical  or 
patriotic  sayings.  Thistlewood,  who  was,  perhaps,  the  most  calm 
and  collected  of  all,  just  before  he  was  turned  off,  said,  "  We  are 
now  going  to  discover  the  great  secret ".  Ings,  the  moment  before 
he  was  choked,  was  singing  "Scots  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled". 
Now  there  was  no  humbug  about  those  men,  nor  about  many 
more  of  the  same  time  and  of  the  same  principles.  They  might 
be  deluded  about  Republicanism,  as  Algernon  Sidney  was,  and 
as  Brutus  was,  but  they  were  as  honest  and  brave  as  either 
Brutus  or  Sidney,  and  as  willing  to  die  for  their  principles. 
But  the  Radicals  who  succeeded  them  were  beings  of  a  very 
different  description  ;  they  jobbed  and  traded  in  Republicanism, 
and  either  parted  with  it,  or  at  the  present  day  are  eager  to  part 
with  it,  for  a  consideration.  In  order  to  get  the  Whigs  into  power, 
and  themselves  places,  they  brought  the  country  by  their  inflam- 
matory language  to  the  verge  of  a  revolution,  and  were  the  cause 
that  many  perished  on  the  scaffold ;  by  their  incendiary  harangues 
and  newspaper  articles  they  caused  the  Bristol  conflagration,  for 
which  six  poor  creatures  were  executed ;  they  encouraged  the 
mob  to  pillage,  pull  down  and  burn,  and  then  rushing  into 
garrets  looked  on.  Thistlewood  tells  the  mob  the  Tower  is  a 
second  Bastile;  let  it  be  pulled  down.  A  mob  tries  to  pull 
down  the  Tower ;  but  Thistlewood  is  at  the  head  of  that  mob ; 
he  is  not  peeping  from  a  garret  on  Tower  Hill  like  Gulliver  at 
Lisbon.  Thistlewood  and  Ings  say  to  twenty  ragged  individuals, 
Liverpool  and  Castlereagh  are  two  satellites  of  despotism ;  it 
would  be  highly  desirable  to  put  them  out  of  the  way.  And  a 
certain  number  of  ragged  individuals  are  surprised  in  a  stable  in 


366  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  x. 

Cato  Street,  making  preparations  to  put  Castlereagh  and  Liverpool 
out  of  the  way,  and  are  fired  upon  with  muskets  by  Grenadiers, 
and  are  hacked  at  with  cutlasses  by  Bow  Street  runners ;  but 
the  twain  who  encouraged  those  ragged  individuals  to  meet  in 
Cato  Street  are  not  far  off,  they  are  not  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  in  the  Borough,  for  example,  in  some  garret  or  obscure 
cellar.  The  very  first  to  confront  the  Guards  and  runners  are 
Thistlewood  and  Ings ;  Thistlewood  whips  his  long  thin  rapier 
through  Smithers'  lungs,  and  Ings  makes  a  dash  at  Fitzclarence 
with  his  butcher's  knife.  Oh,  there  was  something  in  those 
fellows !  honesty  and  courage ;  but  can  as  much  be  said  for  the 
inciters  of  the  troubles  of  '32  ?  No ;  they  egged  on  poor  ignorant 
mechanics  and  rustics,  and  got  them  hanged  for  pulling  down  and 
burning,  whilst  the  highest  pitch  to  which  their  own  daring  ever 
mounted  was  to  mob  Wellington  as  he  passed  in  the  streets. 

Now,  these  people  were  humbugs,  which  Thistlewood  aad 
Ings  were  not.  They  raved  and  foamed  against  kings,  queens, 
Wellington,  the  aristocracy,  and  what  not,  till  they  had  got  the 
Whigs  into  power,  with  whom  they  were  in  secret  alliance,  and 
with  whom  they  afterwards  openly  joined  in  a  system  of  robbery 
and  corruption,  more  flagitious  than  the  old  Tory  one,  because 
there  was  more  cant  about  it ;  for  themselves  they  got  consulships, 
commissionerships,  and  in  some  instances  governments  ;  for  their 
sons  clerkships  in  public  offices ;  and  there  you  may  see  those 
sons  with  the  never-failing  badge  of  the  low  scoundrel-puppy, 
the  gilt  chain  at  the  waistcoat-pocket;  and  there  you  may  hear 
and  see  them  using  the  languishing  tones,  and  employing  the  airs 
and  graces  which  wenches  use  and  employ,  who,  without  being 
in  the  family  way,  wish  to  make  their  keepers  believe  that  they 
are  in  the  family  way.  Assuredly  great  is  the  cleverness  of  your 
Radicals  of  '32,  in  providing  for  themselves  and  their  families. 
Yet,  clever  as  they  are,  there  is  one  thing  they  cannot  do — they 
get  governments  for  themselves,  commissionerships  for  their 
brothers,  clerkships  for  their  sons,  but  there  is  one  thing  beyond 
their  craft — they  cannot  get  husbands  for  their  daughters,  who, 
too  ugly  for  marriage,  and  with  their  heads  filled  with  the 
nonsense  they  have  imbibed  from  gentility-novels,  go  over  from 
Socinus  to  the  Pope,  becoming  sisters  in  fusty  convents,  or 
having  heard  a  few  sermons  in  Mr.  Platitude's  "  chapelle,"  seek 

for  admission  at  the  establishment  of  mother  S ,  who,  after 

employing  them  for  a  time  in  various  menial  offices,  and  making 
them  pluck  off  their  eyebrows,  hair  by  hair,  generally  dismisses 
them  on  the  plea  of  sluttishness ;  whereupon  they  return  to  their 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  367 

papas  to  eat  the  bread  of  the  country,  with  the  comfortable 
prospect  of  eating  it  still  in  the  shape  of  a  pension  after  their 
sires  are  dead.  Papa  (ex  uno  disce  omnes)  living  as  quietly  as  he 
can ;  not  exactly  enviably,  it  is  true,  being  now  and  then  seen  to 
cast  an  uneasy  and  furtive  glance  behind,  even  as  an  animal  is 
wont,  who  has  lost  by  some  mischance  a  very  sightly  appendage ; 
as  quietly  however  as  he  can,  and  as  dignifiedly,  a  great  admirer 
of  every  genteel  thing  and  genteel  personage,  the  Duke  in  par- 
ticular, whose  Despatches,  bound  in  red  morocco,  you  will 
find  on  his  table.  A  disliker  of  coarse  expressions,  and  extremes 
of  every  kind,  with  a  perfect  horror  for  revolutions  and  attempts 
to  revolutionise,  exclaiming  now  and  then,  as  a  shriek  escapes 
from  whipped  and  bleeding  Hungary,  a  groan  from  gasping 
Poland,  and  a  half-stifled  curse  from  down-trodden  but  scowling 
Italy,  "  Confound  the  revolutionary  canaille,  why  can't  it  be 
quiet ! "  in  a  word,  putting  one  in  mind  of  the  parvenu  in  the 
Walpurgis  Nacht.  The  writer  is  no  admirer  of  Goethe,  but  the 
idea  of  that  parvenu  was  certainly  a  good  one — yes,  putting  one 
in  mind  of  the  individual  who  says  : — 

"  Wir  waren  wahrlich  auch  nicht  dumm, 

Und  thaten  oft  was  wir  nicht  sollten ; 
Doch  jetzo  kehrt  sich  alles  um  und  um, 

Und  eben  da  wir's  fest  erhalten  wollten." 

We  were  no  fools,  as  every  one  discern'd, 

And  stopp'd  at  nought  our  projects  in  fulfilling ; 

But  now  the  world  seems  topsy-turvy  turn'd, 
To  keep  it  quiet  just  when  we  were  willing. 

Now,  this  class  of  individuals  entertain  a  mortal  hatred  for 
Lavengro  and  its  writer,  and  never  lose  an  opportunity  of 
vituperating  both.  It  is  true  that  such  hatred  is  by  no  means 
surprising.  There  is  certainly  a  great  deal  of  difference  between 
Lavengro  and  their  own  sons ;  the  one  thinking  of  independence 
and  philology,  whilst  he  is  clinking  away  at  kettles,  and  hammer- 
ing horse-shoes  in  dingles ;  the  others  stuck  up  at  public  offices 
with  gilt  chains  at  their  waistcoat-pockets,  and  giving  themselves 
the  airs  and  graces  of  females  of  a  certain  description.  And 
there  certainly  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  the  author 
of  Lavengro  and  themselves — he  retaining  his  principles  and  his 
brush ;  they  with  scarlet  breeches  on,  it  is  true,  but  without  their 
republicanism  and  their  tails.  Oh,  the  writer  can  well  afford  to 
be  vituperated  by  your  pseudo-Radicals  of  '32  ! 

Some  time  ago  the  writer  was  set  upon  by  an  old  Radical  and 
his  wife ;  but  the  matter  is  too  rich  not  to  require  a  chapter  to  itself. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  OLD  RADICAL. 

"  This  very  dirty  man,  with  his  very  dirty  face, 
Would  do  any  dirty  act,  which  would  get  him  a  place." 

SOME  time  ago  the  writer  was  set  upon  by  an  old  Radical  and 
his  wife;  but  before  he  relates  the  manner  in  which  they  set 
upon  him,  it  will  be  as  well  to  enter  upon  a  few  particulars  tending 
to  elucidate  their  reasons  for  so  doing. 

The  writer  had  just  entered  into  his  eighteenth  year,  when  he 
met  at  the  table  of  a  certain  Anglo-Germanist  an  individual, 
apparently  somewhat  under  thirty,  of  middle  stature,  a  thin  and 
weaselly  figure,  a  sallow  complexion,  a  certain  obliquity  of  vision, 
and  a  large  pair  of  spectacles.  This  person,  who  had  lately  come 
from  abroad,  and  had  published  a  volume  of  translations,  had 
attracted  some  slight  notice  in  the  literary  world,  and  was  looked 
upon  as  a  kind  of  lion  in  a  small  provincial  capital.  After  dinner 
he  argued  a  great  deal,  spoke  vehemently  against  the  Church, 
and  uttered  the  most  desperate  Radicalism  that  was  perhaps  ever 
heard,  saying,  he  hoped  that  in  a  short  time  there  would  not  be 
a  king  or  queen  in  Europe,  and  inveighing  bitterly  against  the 
English  aristocracy,  and  against  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in 
particular,  whom  he  said,  if  he  himself  was  ever  president  of  an 
English  republic — an  event  which  he  seemed  to  think  by  no 
means  improbable — he  would  hang  for  certain  infamous  acts 
of  profligacy  and  bloodshed  which  he  had  perpetrated  in  Spain. 
Being  informed  that  the  writer  was  something  of  a  philologist,  to 
which  character  the  individual  in  question  laid  great  pretensions, 
he  came  and  sat  down  by  him,  and  talked  about  languages  and 
literature.  The  writer,  who  was  only  a  boy,  was  a  little  frightened 
at  first,  but,  not  wishing  to  appear  a  child  of  absolute  ignorance, 
he  summoned  what  little  learning  he  had,  and  began  to  blunder 
out  something  about  the  Celtic  languages  and  their  literature,  and 
asked  the  Lion  who  he  conceived  Finn  Ma  Coul  to  be?  and 
whether  he  did  not  consider  the  "  Ode  to  the  Fox,"  by  Red  Rhys 
of  Eryry,  to  be  a  masterpiece  of  pleasantry?  Receiving  no 
answer  to  these  questions  from  the  Lion,  who,  singular  enough, 

(368) 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  369 

would  frequently,  when  the  writer  put  a  question  to  him,  look 
across  the  table,  and  flatly  contradict  some  one  who  was  talking 
to  some  other  person,  the  writer  dropped  the  Celtic  languages 
and  literature,  and  asked  him  whether  he  did  not  think  it  a  funny 
thing  that  Temugin,  generally  called  Genghis  Khan,  should  have 
married  the  daughter  of  Prester  John  ?  *  The  Lion,  after  giving 
a  side-glance  at  the  writer  through  his  left  spectacle  glass,  seemed 
about  to  reply,  but  was  unfortunately  prevented,  being  seized  with 
an  irresistible  impulse  to  contradict  a  respectable  doctor  of 
medicine,  who  was  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  master  of 
the  house  at  the  upper  and  farther  end  of  the  table,  the  writer 
being  a  poor  ignorant  lad,  sitting  of  course  at  the  bottom.  The 
doctor,  who  had  served  in  the  Peninsula,  having  observed  that 
Ferdinand  the  Seventh  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  had  been  repre- 
sented, the  Lion  vociferated  that  he  was  ten  times  worse,  and 
that  he  hoped  to  see  him  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  hanged 
together.  The  doctor,  who,  being  a  Welshman,  was  somewhat 
of  a  warm  temper,  growing  rather  red,  said  that  at  any  rate  he  had 
been  informed  that  Ferdinand  the  Seventh  knew  sometimes  how  to 
behave  himself  like  a  gentleman — this  brought  on  a  long  dispute, 
which  terminated  rather  abruptly.  The  Lion  having  observed  that 
the  doctor  must  not  talk  about  Spanish  matters  with  one  who  had 
visited  every  part  of  Spain,  the  doctor  bowed,  and  said  he  was  right, 
for  that  he  believed  no  people  in  general  possessed  such  accurate 
information  about  countries  as  those  who  had  travelled  them  as 
bagmen.  On  the  Lion  asking  the  doctor  what  he  meant,  the 
Welshman,  whose  under  jaw  began  to  move  violently,  replied, 
that  he  meant  what  he  said.  Here  the  matter  ended,  for  the 
Lion  turning  from  him,  looked  at  the  writer.  The  writer,  imagin- 
ing that  his  own  conversation  hitherto  had  been  too  trivial  and 
common-place  for  the  Lion  to  consider  it  worth  his  while  to  take 
much  notice  of  it,  determined  to  assume  a  little  higher  ground, 
and  after  repeating  a  few  verses  of  the  Koran,  and  gabbling  a 
little  Arabic,  asked  the  Lion  what  he  considered  to  be  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Hegira  and  the  Christian  era,  adding,  that  he 
thought  the  general  computation  was  in  error  by  about  one  year ; 
and  being  a  particularly  modest  person,  chiefly,  he  believes,  owing 
to  his  having  been  at  school  in  Ireland,  absolutely  blushed  at  find- 
ing that  the  Lion  returned  not  a  word  in  answer.  "  What  a  wonder- 
ful individual  I  am  seated  by,"  thought  he,  "to  whom  Arabic  seems 
a  vulgar  speech,  and  a  question  about  the  Hegira  not  worthy  of 

*A  fact. 
24 


3?o  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  xi. 

an  answer ! "  not  reflecting  that  as  lions  come  from  the  Sahara, 
they  have  quite  enough  of  Arabic  at  home,  and  that  the  question 
about  the  Hegira  was  rather  mal  a  propos  to  one  used  to  prey  on 
the  flesh  of  hadjis  "  Now  I  only  wish  he  would  vouchsafe  me  a 
little  of  his  learning,"  thought  the  boy  to  himself,  and  in  this  wish 
he  was  at  last  gratified ;  for  the  Lion,  after  asking  him  whether 
he  was  acquainted  at  all  with  the  Sclavonian  languages,  and 
being  informed  that  he  was  not,  absolutely  dumb-foundered  him 
by  a  display  of  Sclavonian  erudition. 

Years  rolled  by — the  writer  was  a  good  deal  about,  sometimes 
in  London,  sometimes  in  the  country,  sometimes  abroad;  in 
London  he  occasionally  met  the  man  of  the  spectacles,  who  was 
always  very  civil  to  him,  and,  indeed,  cultivated  his  acquaintance. 
The  writer  thought  it  rather  odd  that,  after  he  himself  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  Sclavonian  languages  and  literature,  the  man 
of  the  spectacles  talked  little  or  nothing  about  them.  In  a  little 
time,  however,  the  matter  ceased  to  cause  him  the  slightest  surprise, 
for  he  had  discovered  a  key  to  the  mystery.  In  the  meantime  the 
man  of  spectacles  was  busy  enough ;  he  speculated  in  commerce, 
failed,  and  paid  his  creditors  twenty  pennies  in  the  pound ;  pub- 
lished translations,  of  which  the  public  at  length  became  heartily 
tired  ;  having,  indeed,  got  an  inkling  of  the  manner  in  which  those 
translations  were  got  up.  He  managed,  however,  to  ride  out  many 
a  storm,  having  one  trusty  sheet-anchor — Radicalism.  This  he 
turned  to  the  best  advantage — writing  pamphlets  and  articles  in 
reviews,  all  in  the  Radical  interest,  and  for  which  he  was  paid  out 
of  the  Radical  fund  ;  which  articles  and  pamphlets,  when  Toryism 
seemed  to  reel  on  its  last  legs,  exhibited  a  slight  tendency  to 
Whiggism.  Nevertheless,  his  abhorrence  of  desertion  of  principle 
was  so  great  in  the  time  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  administration, 

that  when  S left  the  Whigs  and  went  over,  he  told  the  writer, 

who  was  about  that  time  engaged  with  him  in  a  literary  under- 
taking, that  the  said  S was  a  fellow  with  a  character  so 

infamous,  that  any  honest  man  would  rather  that  you  should  spit 
in  his  face  than  insult  his  ears  with  the  mention  of  the  name  of 

The  literary  project  having  come  to  nothing, — in  which,  by- 
the-bye,  the  writer  was  to  have  all  the  labour,  and  his  friend  all 
the  credit,  provided  any  credit  should  accrue  from  it, — the  writer 
did  not  see  the  latter  for  some  years,  during  which  time  consider- 
able political  changes  took  place ;  the  Tories  were  driven  from, 
and  the  Whigs  placed  in,  office,  both  events  being  brought  about 
by  the  Radicals  coalescing  with  the  Whigs,  over  whom  they 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  371 

possessed  great  influence  for  the  services  which  they  had  rendered. 
When  the  writer  next  visited  his  friend,  he  found  him  very  much 
altered ;  his  opinions  were  by  no  means  so  exalted  as  they  had 
been — he  was  not  disposed  even  to  be  rancorous  against  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  saying  that  there  were  worse  men  than  he,  and 
giving  him  some  credit  as  a  general ;  a  hankering  after  gentility 
seeming  to  pervade  the  whole  family,  father  and  sons,  wife  and 
daughters,  all  of  whom  talked  about  genteel  diversions — gentility- 
novels,  and  even  seemed  to  look  with  favour  on  high  Churchism, 
having  in  former  years,  to  all  appearance,  been  bigoted  Dissenters. 
In  a  little  time  the  writer  went  abroad  ;  as,  indeed,  did  his  friend ; 
not,  however,  like  the  writer,  at  his  own  expense,  but  at  that  of 
the  country — the  Whigs  having  given  him  a  travelling  appoint- 
ment, which  he  held  for  some  years,  during  which  he  is  said  to 
have  received  upwards  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  of  the  money  of 
the  country,  for  services  which  will,  perhaps,  be  found  inscribed  on 
certain  tablets,  when  another  Astolfo  shall  visit  the  moon.  This 
appointment,  however,  he  lost  on  the  Tories  resuming  power — 
when  the  writer  found  him  almost  as  Radical  and  patriotic  as  ever, 
just  engaged  in  trying  to  get  into  Parliament,  into  which  he  got  by 
the  assistance  of  his  Radical  friends,  who,  in  conjunction  with  the 
Whigs,  were  just  getting  up  a  crusade  against  the  Tories,  which 
they  intended  should  be  a  conclusive  one. 

A  little  time  after  the  publication  of  The  Bible  in  Spain, 
the  Tories  being  still  in  power,  this  individual,  full  of  the  most 
disinterested  friendship  for  the  author,  was  particularly  anxious 
that  he  should  be  presented  with  an  official  situation,  in  a  certain 
region  a  great  many  miles  off.  "You  are  the  only  person  for 
that  appointment,"  said  he ;  "  you  understand  a  great  deal  about 
the  country,  and  are  better  acquainted  with  the  two  languages 
spoken  there  than  any  one  in  England.  Now  I  love  my  country, 
and  have,  moreover,  a  great  regard  for  you,  and  as  I  am  in 
Parliament,  and  have  frequent  opportunities  of  speaking  to  the 
Ministry,  I  shall  take  care  to  tell  them  how  desirable  it  would  be 
to  secure  your  services.  It  is  true  they  are  Tories,  but  I  think 
that  even  Tories  would  give  up  their  habitual  love  of  jobbery  in 
a  case  like  yours,  and  for  once  show  themselves  disposed  to  be 
honest  men  and  gentlemen ;  indeed,  I  have  no  doubt  they  will ; 
for,  having  so  deservedly  an  infamous  character,  they  would  be 
glad  to  get  themselves  a  little  credit,  by  a  presentation  which 
could  not  possibly  be  traced  to  jobbery  or  favouritism."  The 
writer  begged  his  friend  to  give  himself  no  trouble  about  the 
matter,  as  he  was  not  desirous  of  the  appointment,  being  in  toler- 


372  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  XL 

ably  easy  circumstances,  and  willing  to  take  some  rest  after  a  life 
of  labour.  All,  however,  that  he  could  say  was  of  no  use,  his 
friend  indignantly  observing  that  the  matter  ought  to  be  taken 
entirely  out  of  his  hands,  and  the  appointment  thrust  upon  him 
for  the  credit  of  the  country.  "  But  may  not  many  people  be  far 
more  worthy  of  the  appointment  than  myself?."  said  the  writer. 
"Where?"  said  the  friendly  Radical.  "If  you  don't  get  it,  it 
will  be  made  a  job  of,  given  to  the  son  of  some  steward,  or,  perhaps, 
to  some  quack  who  has  done  dirty  work  ;  I  tell  you  what,  I  shall 
ask  it  for  you,  in  spite  of  you ;  I  shall,  indeed  !  "  and  his  eyes  flashed 
with  friendly  and  patriotic  fervour  through  the  large  pair  of  spec- 
tacles which  he  wore. 

And,  in  fact,  it  would  appear  that  the  honest  and  friendly 
patriot  put  his  threat  into  execution.  "  I  have  spoken/'  said  he, 
"  more  than  once  to  this  and  that  individual  in  Parliament,  and 
everybody  seems  to  think  that  the  appointment  should  be  given 
to  you.  Nay,  that  you  should  be  forced  to  accept  it.  I  intend 

next  to  speak  to  Lord  A ." l  And  so  he  did,  at  least  it  would 

appear  so.  On  the  writer  calling  upon  him  one  evening,  about  a 
week  afterwards,  in  order  to  take  leave  of  him,  as  the  writer  was 
about  to  take  a  long  journey  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  his  friend 
no  sooner  saw  him  than  he  started  up  in  a  violent  fit  of  agitation, 
and  glancing  about  the  room,  in  which  there  were  several  people, 
amongst  others  two  Whig  members  of  Parliament,  said :  "  I  am 
glad  you  are  come,  I  was  just  speaking  about  you.  This,"  said 
he,  addressing  the  two  members,  "  is  so-and-so,  the  author  of  so- 
and-so,  the  well-known  philologist ;  as  I  was  telling  you,  I  spoke 
to  Lord  A l  this  day  about  him,  and  said  that  he  ought  forth- 
with to  have  the  head  appointment  in ;  and  what  did  the 

fellow  say  ?  Why,  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  such  an  appoint- 
ment at  all,  and  if  there  were,  why and  then  he  hummed 

and  ha'd.  Yes,"  said  he,  looking  at  the  writer,  "  he  did  indeed. 
What  a  scandal !  what  an  infamy !  But  I  see  how  it  will  be,  it 
will  be  a  job.  The  place  will  be  given  to  some  son  of  a  steward 
or  to  some  quack,  as  I  said  before.  Oh,  these  Tories  !  Well,  if 
this  does  not  make  one  —  Here  he  stopped  short,  crunched 

his  teeth,  and  looked  the  image  of  desperation. 

Seeing  the  poor  man  in  this  distressed  condition,  the  writer 
begged  him  to  be  comforted,  and  not  to  take  the  matter  so  much  to 
heart ;  but  the  indignant  Radical  took  the  matter  very  much  to 
heart,  and  refused  all  comfort  whatever,  bouncing  about  the  room, 

IMS.  "Aberdeea" 


I854-]  APPENDIX.  373 

and,  whilst  his  spectacles  flashed  in  the  light  of  four  spermaceti 
candles,  exclaiming  :  "  It  will  be  a  job — a  Tory  job  !  I  see  it  all, 
I  see  it  all,  I  see  it  all ! " 

And  a  job  it  proved,  and  a  very  pretty  job,  but  no  Tory  job. 
Shortly  aftewards  the  Tories  were  out,  and  the  Whigs  were  in. 
From  that  time  the  writer  heard  not  a  word  about  the  injustice 
done  to  the  country,  in  not  presenting  him  with  the  appointment 
to  -  — ;  the  Radical,  however,  was  busy  enough  to  obtain  the 
appointment,  not  for  the  writer,  but  for  himself,  and  eventually 
succeeded,  partly  through  Radical  influence,  and  partly  through 
that  of  a  certain  Whig  lord,  for  whom  the  Radical  had  done,  on 
a  particular  occasion,  work  of  a  particular  kind.  So,  though  the 
place  was  given  to  a  quack,  and  the  whole  affair  a  very  pretty  job, 
it  was  one  in  which  the  Tories  had  certainly  no  hand. 

In  the  meanwhile,  however,  the  friendly  Radical  did  not  drop 
the  writer.  Oh,  no  !  On  various  occasions  he  obtained  from  the 
writer  all  the  information  about  the  country  in  question,  and  was 
particularly  anxious  to  obtain  from  the  writer,  and  eventually  did 
obtain,  a  copy  of  a  work  written  in  the  court  language  of  that 
country,  edited  by  the  writer,  a  language  exceedingly  difficult, 
which  the  writer,  at  the  expense  of  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
eyesight,  had  acquired,  at  least  as  far  as  by  the  eyesight  it  could 
be  acquired.  What  use  the  writer's  friend  made  of  the  knowledge 
he  had  gained  from  him,  and  what  use  he  made  of  the  book,  the 
writer  can  only  guess;  but  he  has  little  doubt  that  when  the 
question  of  sending  a  person  to  was  mooted  in  a  Parlia- 
mentary Committee — which  it  was  at  the  instigation  of  the  Radical 
supporters  of  the  writer's  friend— the  Radical  on  being  examined 
about  the  country,  gave  the  information  which  he  had  obtained 
from  the  writer  as  his  own,  and  flashed  the  book  and  its  singular 
characters  in  the  eyes  of  the  Committee  ;  and  then  of  course  his 
Radical  friends  would  instantly  say :  "  This  is  the  man  !  there  is 
no  one  like  him.  See  what  information  he  possesses ;  and  see 
that  book  written  by  himself  in  the  court  language  of  Serendib. 
This  is  the  only  man  to  send  there.  What  a  glory,  what  a  triumph 
it  would  be  to  Britain,  to  send  out  a  man  so  deeply  versed  in 
the  mysterious  lore  of ,  as  our  illustrious  countryman  ;  a  per- 
son who  with  his  knowledge  could  beat  with  their  own  weapons 

the  wise  men  of !  Is  such  an  opportunity  to  be  lost?  Oh, 

no,  surely  not ;  if  it  is,  it  will  be  an  eternal  disgrace  to  England, 
and  the  world  will  see  that  Whigs  are  no  better  than  Tories." 

Let  no  one  think  the  writer  uncharitable  in  these  suppositions. 
The  writer  is  only  too  well  acquainted  with  the  antecedents  of 


374  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  XL 

the  individual,  to  entertain  much  doubt  that  he  would  shrink 
from  any  such  conduct,  provided  he  thought  that  his  temporal 
interest  would  be  forwarded  by  it.  The  writer  is  aware  of  more 
than  one  instance  in  which  he  has  passed  off  the  literature  of 
friendless  young  men  for  his  own,  after  making  them  a  slight 
pecuniary  compensation  and  deforming  what  was  originally  ex- 
cellent by  interpolations  of  his  own.  This  was  his  especial 
practice  with  regard  to  translation,  of  which  he  would  fain  be 
esteemed  the  king.  This  Radical  literato  is  slightly  acquainted 
with  four  or  five  of  the  easier  dialects  of  Europe,  on  the  strength 
of  which  knowledge  he  would  fain  pass  for  a  universal  linguist, 
publishing  translations  of  pieces  originally  written  in  various 
difficult  languages ;  which  translations,  however,  were  either  made 
by  himself  from  literal  renderings  done  for  him  into  French  or 
German,  or  had  been  made  from  the  originals  into  English,  by 
friendless  young  men,  and  then  deformed  by  his  alterations. 

Well,  the  Radical  got  the  appointment,  and  the  writer  cer- 
tainly did  not  grudge  it  him.  He,  of  course,  was  aware  that  his 
friend  had  behaved  in  a  very  base  manner  towards  him,  but  he 
bore  him  no  ill-will,  and  invariably  when  he  heard  him  spoken 
against,  which  was  frequently  the  case,  took  his  part  when  no 
other  person  would ;  indeed,  he  could  well  afford  to  bear  him  no 
ill-will.  He  had  never  sought  for  the  appointment,  nor  wished  for 
it,  nor,  indeed,  ever  believed  himself  to  be  qualified  for  it.  He  was 
conscious,  it  is  true,  that  he  was  not  altogether  unacquainted  with 
the  language  and  literature  of  the  country  with  which  the  appoint- 
ment was  connected.  He  was  likewise  aware  that  he  was  not 
altogether  deficient  in  courage  and  in  propriety  of  behaviour.  He 
knew  that  his  appearance  was  not  particularly  against  him,  his 
face  not  being  like  that  of  a  convicted  pickpocket,  nor  his  gait 
resembling  that  of  a  fox  who  has  lost  his  tail ;  yet  he  never  believed 
himself  adapted  for  the  appointment,  being  aware  that  he  had  no 
aptitude  for  the  doing  of  dirty  work,  if  called  to  do  it,  nor  pliancy 
which  would  enable  him  to  submit  to  scurvy  treatment,  whether 
he  did  dirty  work  or  not — requisites,  at  the  time  of  which  he  is 
speaking,  indispensable  in  every  British  official;  requisites,  by- 
the-bye,  which  his  friend,  the  Radical,  possessed  in  a  high  degree ; 
but  though  he  bore  no  ill-will  towards  his  friend,  his  friend  bore 
anything  but  good-will  towards  him ;  for  from  the  moment  that 
he  had  obtained  the  appointment  for  himself,  his  mind  was  filled 
with  the  most  bitter  malignity  against  the  writer,  and  naturally 
enough ;  for  no  one  ever  yet  behaved  in  a  base  manner  towards 
another,  without  forthwith  conceiving  a  mortal  hatred  against  him. 


1 854.]  APPENDIX.  375 

You  wrong  another,  know  yourself  to  have  acted  basely,  and  are 
enraged,  not  against  yourself — for  no  one  hates  himself — but 
against  the  innocent  cause  of  your  baseness;  reasoning  very 
plausibly,  "But  for  that  fellow,  I  should  never  have  been  base; 
for  had  he  not  existed,  I  could  not  have  been  so,  at  any  rate 
against  him " ;  and  this  hatred  is  all  the  more  bitter,  when  you 
reflect  that  you  have  been  needlessly  base. 

Whilst  the  Tories  are  in  power  the  writer's  friend,  of  his  own 
accord,  raves  against  the  Tories  because  they  do  not  give  the 
writer  a  certain  appointment,  and  makes,  or  says  he  makes, 
desperate  exertions  to  make  them  do  so ;  but  no  sooner  are  the 
Tories  out,  with  whom  he  has  no  influence,  and  the  Whigs  in, 
with  whom  he,  or  rather  his  party,  has  influence,  than  he  gets  the 
place  for  himself,  though,  according  to  his  own  expressed  opinion 
— an  opinion  with  which  the  writer  does  not,  and  never  did,  con- 
cur— the  writer  was  the  only  person  competent  to  hold  it.  Now 
had  he,  without  saying  a  word  to  the  writer,  or  about  the  writer 
with  respect  to  the  employment,  got  the  place  for  himself  when  he 
had  an  opportunity,  knowing,  as  he  very  well  knew,  himself  to  be 
utterly  unqualified  for  it,  the  transaction,  though  a  piece  of  jobbery, 
would  not  have  merited  the  title  of  a  base  transaction ;  as  the 
matter  stands,  however,  who  can  avoid  calling  the  whole  affair  not 
only  a  piece  of — come,  come,  out  with  the  word — scoundrelism  on 
the  part  of  the  writer's  friend,  but  a  most  curious  piece  of  uncalled- 
for  scoundrelism  ?  and  who,  with  any  knowledge  of  fallen  human 
nature,  can  wonder  at  the  writer's  friend  entertaining  towards  him 
a  considerable  portion  of  gall  and  malignity  ? 

This  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  writer's  friend  was  wonderfully 
increased  by  the  appearance  of  Lavengro,  many  passages  of  which 
the  Radical  in  his  foreign  appointment  applied  to  himself  and 
family — one  or  two  of  his  children  having  gone  over  to  Popery, 
the  rest  become  members  of  Mr.  Platitude's  chapel,  and  the  minds 
of  all  being  filled  with  ultra  notions  of  gentility. 

The  writer,  hearing  that  his  old  friend  had  returned  to  Eng- 
land, to  apply,  he  believes,  for  an  increase  of  salary,  and  for  a 
title,  called  upon  him,  unwillingly,  it  is  true,  for  he  had  no  wish  to 
see  a  person  for  whom,  though  he  bore  him  no  ill-will,  he  could 
not  avoid  feeling  a  considerable  portion  of  contempt ;  the  truth  is, 
that  his  sole  object  in  calling  was  to  endeavour  to  get  back  a  piece 
of  literary  property  which  his  friend  had  obtained  from  him  many 
years  previously,  and  which,  though  he  had  frequently  applied  for 
it,  he  never  could  get  back.  Well,  the  writer  called ;  he  did  not 
get  his  property,  which,  indeed,  he  had  scarcely  time  to  press  for, 


376  APPENDIX.  [CHAP.  ix. 

being  almost  instantly  attacked  by  his  good  friend  and  his  wife — 
yes,  it  was  then  that  the  author  was  set  upon  by  an  old  Radical 
and  his  wife — the  wife,  who  looked  the  very  image  of  shame  and 
malignity,  did  not  say  much,  it  is  true,  but  encouraged  her  husband 
in  all  he  said.  Both  of  their  own  accord  introduced  the  subject 
of  Lavengro.  The  Radical  called  the  writer  a  grumbler,  just  as  if 
there  had  ever  been  a  greater  grumbler  than  himself  until,  by  the 
means  above  described,  he  had  obtained  a  place ;  he  said  that  the 
book  contained  a  melancholy  view  of  human  nature — just  as  if 
anybody  could  look  in  his  face  without  having  a  melancholy  view 
of  human  nature.  On  the  writer  quietly  observing  that  the  book 
contained  an  exposition  of  his  principles,  the  pseudo-Radical 
replied,  that  he  cared  nothing  for  his  principles — which  was  pro- 
bably true,  it  not  being  likely  that  he  would  care  for  another 
person's  principles  after  having  shown  so  thorough  a  disregard  for 
his  own.  The  writer  said  that  the  book,  of  course,  would  give 
offence  to  humbugs;  the  Radical  then  demanded  whether  he 
thought  him  a  humbug — the  wretched  wife  was  the  Radical's 
protection,  even  as  he  knew  she  would  be ;  it  was  on  her  account 
that  the  writer  did  not  kick  his  good  friend ;  as  it  was,  he  looked 
at  him  in  the  face  and  thought  to  himself,  "  How  is  it  possible  I 
should  think  you  a  humbug,  when  only  last  night  I  was  taking 
your  part  in  a  company  in  which  everybody  called  you  a  hum- 
bug?" 

The  Radical,  probably  observing  something  in  the  writer's  eye 
which  he  did  not  like,  became  all  on  a  sudden  abjectly  submissive, 
and,  professing  the  highest  admiration  for  the  writer,  begged  him 
to  visit  him  in  his  government ;  this  the  writer  promised  faithfully 
to  do,  and  he  takes  the  present  opportunity  of  performing  his 
promise. 

This  is  one  of  the  pseudo-Radical  calumniators  of  Lavengro 
and  its  author ;  were  the  writer  on  his  death-bed  he  would  lay  his 
hand  on  his  heart  and  say,  that  he  does  not  believe  that  there  is 
one  trait  of  exaggeration  in  the  portrait  which  he  has  drawn.  This 
is  one  of  the  pseudo-Radical  calumniators  of  Lavengro  and  its 
author;  and  this  is  one  of  the  genus,  who,  after  having  railed 
against  jobbery  for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  century,  at  present 
batten  on  large  official  salaries  which  they  do  not  earn.  England 
is  a  great  country,  and  her  interests  require  that  she  should  have 
many  a  well-paid  official  both  at  home  and  abroad ;  but  will  Eng- 
land long  continue  a  great  country  if  the  care  of  her  interests,  both 
at  home  and  abroad,  is  in  many  instances  intrusted  to  beings  like 
him  described  above,  whose  only  recommendation  for  an  official 


1854.]  APPENDIX.  377 

appointment  was  that  he  was  deeply  versed  in  the  secrets  of  his 
party  and  of  the  Whigs  ? 

Before  he  concludes,  the  writer  will  take  the  liberty  of  saying 
of  Lavengro  that  it  is  a  book  written  for  the  express  purpose  of 
inculcating  virtue,  love  of  country,  learning,  manly  pursuits,  and 
genuine  religion,  for  example,  that  of  the  Church  of  England,  and 
for  awakening  a  contempt  for  nonsense  of  every  kind,  and  a  hatred 
for  priestcraft,  more  especially  that  of  Rome. 

And  in  conclusion,  with  respect  to  many  passages  of  his  book 
in  which  he  has  expressed  himself  in  terms  neither  measured  nor 
mealy,  he  will  beg  leave  to  observe,  in  the  words  of  a  great  poet, 
who  lived  a  profligate  life,  it  is  true,  but  who  died  a  sincere  peni- 
tent— thanks,  after  God,  to  good  Bishop  Burnet — 

"  All  this  with  indignation  I  have  hurl'd 
At  the  pretending  part  of  this  proud  world, 
Who,  swollen  with  selfish  vanity,  devise 
False  freedoms,  formal  cheats,  and  holy  lies, 
Over  their  fellow  fools  to  tyrannise." 

— ROCHESTER. 


THE  END. 


NOTES  TO  THE  ROMANY  RYE, 

WITH 

CORRECTIONS,  IDENTIFICATIONS  AND  TRANSLATIONS. 

Page  5.  The  man  in  black:  The  Rev.  Eraser.  See  pp.  24-25,  and 
"Arbuthnot"  in  Bibliog.— Barbarini,  read  Barberini:  Urban  VIII.,  pope 
1623-44. — 6.  Nipotismo  di  Roma:  See  "Leti"  in  Bibliog.— Ganga- 
nelli:  Clement  XIV.,  pope,  1769-74. — 10.  Mezzofanti:  So  here  and  else- 
where in  Romany  Rye;  Mezzofante  in  Lavengro — Cardinal  Giuseppe, 
1774-1849,  the  celebrated  linguist. — Leon  the  Isaurian:  Reigned  at 
Constantinople  from  717-741. — n.  Ignacio :  Spanish  form  of  Ignatius. — 
14.  Oman!  batsikhom :  Manchu  Tartar  form  of  prayer  given  elsewhere  by 
Borrow  as  Oum-ma-ni-bat-mi-houm.  See  Life,  i.,  p.  176. — 15.  Bellissima 
Biondina  (It.) :  Fairest  of  blondes. — 16.  Sono  un  Prete,  etc.  (It.) :  I  am  a 
Roman  Catholic  Priest. — 19.  Zamarra  (Sp.) :  A  sheep-skin  jacket  with  the 
wool  outside. — Carajo :  An  oath  fit  neither  to  be  written  nor  pronounced, 
but  common  to  the  lower  classes  of  Spaniards,  or  to  ambitious  foreign 
Hispanophiles  who  cannot  know  its  meaning.  See  Oudin's  Tesoro,  Paris, 
1607. — 20.  Scotch  blood:  He  was,  then,  a  Fraser  of  Lovat,  of  whom 
Simon  Lord  F.  was  a  supporter  of  the  last  Pretender,  Charles  Edward 
Stuart,  1746. — Puta  (Sp.) :  The  most  offensive  word  for  harlot. — Alcoran 
des  Cordeliers,  i.e ., "  the  Franciscans'  Goran  "  :  A  blasphemous  work  written 
in  1399  in  Latin  by  Bartolommeo  Albizzi  (Albitius) ;  first  published  in  printed 
form  at  Milan  in  1510,  then  by  Luther  in  1542  with  his  peculiar  comments, 
and  finally  in  French  at  Geneva,  1556.  See  "Albizzi"  in  the  Bibliog. — 
22.  Bible:  The  price  of  the  old  apple-woman's  Bible  was,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, one  half-crown  (Lavengro,  p.  264). — 23.  Alexander  VI. :  Pope 
1492-1503.  He  was  a  Spaniard  of  Valencia,  and  his  family  name  was 
Rodrigo  Borja,  in  It.  Borgia. — 24.  L'opere  sue,  etc. :  His  deeds  were  not 
those  of  lions,  but  of  foxes — a  slight  alteration  of  Dante's  Uopere  mie,  etc. 
See  L'/w/.,  xxvii.,  st.  25.— 25.  Oime  (It.):  Alas!— To  .  .  .,  read  Rome. 
— Sir  John  D.,  read  Sir  Thomas  Dereham :  A  follower  of  the  Stuarts ;  he 
died  in  1739,  and  his  monument  stands  in  the  English  College  at  Rome. — 
There  is  at  .  .  .,  read  Rome. — Yes,  per  Dio  (It.) :  By  Heaven  1 

Page  25.  Parsons  and  Garnet :  Two  English  Jesuits — Robert  Parsons 
(1547-1610),  superior  to  the  Catholic  Missions  in  England,  and  Henry  Garnet 
(1555-1606),  hanged  because  he  refused  to  reveal  the  secrets  of  the  confes- 
sional in  connection  with  the  Gunpowder  Plot. — No  hay  remedio  (Sp.) : 
There  is  no  help  for  it. — 26.  Inserted  it:  In  vol.  iv.,  p.  330. — 32.  Calane's: 
A  Spanish  hat  worn  by  the  lower  classes,  having  the  rim  turned  up  against  the 
crown. — There's  a  chovahanee,  etc. :  The  full  ditty  runs  thus  in  one  of 
Borrow's  MSS. :— 

(379) 


380  NOTES. 


"  THE  PETULENGRES. 

"  There's  a  chovahanee  and  a  chovahano, 

The  nav  se  lende  Petulengro  ; 

Sore  the  chaves  'dre  their  ten 

Are  chories  and  lubbenies — tatchipen," 

which  reading  corrects  that  of  the  text. — 34.  Flaming  Bosville:  Anselo 
Herne.  Seep.  67,  and  note  to  Lavengro,  p.  363. — 37.  Gentleman  Cooper  and 
White-headed  Bob  :  i.e.,  George  Cooper  and  Ned  Baldwin,  who  fought  on 
the  5th  of  July,  1825,  according  toPearce  Egan's  Boxiana,  v.,  pp.  61  and  80. 
Observe  that  the  date  harmonises  perfectly  with  the  chronology  of  the 
expedition. — 38.  Brynhildathe  Valkyrie,  or  Amazon,  was  the  wife  of  Gunnar 
and  friend  of  Sigurd.  See  the  Edda  in  Bibliog.  Sigurd,  called  Fafnisbane 
or  the  Slayer  of  Fafnir,  was  a  heroic  character  frequently  mentioned  in  the 
Edda,  the  Wilkina  Saga,  Snorro's  Heimskringla,  and  Saxo-Grammaticus. 
In  the  Wilkina  he  is  Sigurdr  Sveinn,  in  the  old  Danish  Heroic  Ballads 
(Kiaempeviser)  he  is  Sigurd  Snaresvend  (Borrow's  "  Snareswayne "),  and 
Siegfrid  in  the  Lay  of  the  Nibelungs.  Sivard  or  Sivord  is  a  German  variety 
of  the  same  name. 

Page  40.  Feasting- :  This  rustic  banquet  was  offered  to  Sylvester  and 
Ursula  who  were  married  that  day,  although  our  "  rye  "  was  not  aware  of  the 
fact  till  later.  The  song  was  built  up  by  our  author  from  a  very  slender 
prose  draft,  which  I  find  in  its  earliest  form  given  thus  :— 

i.  "  DRABBING  THE  BAULO. 

"  We  jaws  to  the  drab-en gro  and  lels  dui  or  trin  hors- worth  of  drab,  and 
when  we  wels  to  the  sweti  we  pens  we  can  have  a  drab  at  a  baulo.  Then 
we  kairs  it  opre",  and  jaws  to  a  farm-ker  to  mang  a  bit  of  habben,  and  then 
we  pens :  '  Chuva  lis  acai  and  dov-odoy  baulo  will  lei  it,  and  to-morrow  sorlu 
we'll  wel  apopli  and  mang  it '.  And  so  we  kairs,  and  on  the  sorlu  when 
we've  got  it,  we  toves  it  well ;  we  kins  levinor  at  the  kitchema,  and  have 
a  kosko  habben.  The  boshom-engro  plays  (kils),  and  the  tawni  juva  gils,  a 
kosko  puro  Rommany  guillie."  Then  follows  the  gillie  nearly  as  in  the 
text. 

a.  "  DRABBING  THE  BAULO. 

"  To  mande  shoon  ye  Rommany  Chals 
Who  besh  in  the  pus  about  the  yag 
I'll  pen  how  we  drab  the  baulo. 

"  We  jaws  to  the  drab-engro  ker 
Trin  horsworth  there  of  drab  we  lels 
And  when  to  the  swety  back  we  wels 
We  pens  we'll  drab  the  baulo. 

11  And  then  we  kairs  the  drab  opre", 
And  then  we  jaws  to  the  farming  ker 
To  mang  a  beti  habben, 
A  beti  poggado  habben. 


NOTES.  381 


11  A  rinkeno  baulo  there  we  dick, 
And  then  we  pens  in  Rommany  jib  : 
'  Chiv  lis  odoy  oprey  the  chick, 
The  baulo  he  will  lei  lis, 
The  baulo  he  will  lei  lis. 

"  '  Apopli  on  the  sorlo  we 
Will  wel  and  mang  him  mullo, 
Will  wel  and  mang  his  truppo.' 

"  And  so  we  kairs,  and  so  we  kairs, 
We  mang  him  on  the  sorlo, 
And  rig  to  the  tan  the  baulo. 

"  And  then  we  toves  his  wendror  well 
Till  sore  the  wendror  iuziou  sie, 
Till  kekkeno  drab's  adrey  lis, 
Till  drab  there's  kek  adrey  lis. 

"  And  then  his  truppo  well  we  hatch, 
Kin  levinor  at  the  kitchema, 
And  have  a  kosko  habben, 
A  kosko  Rommano  habben. 

11  The  boshom-engro  kils,  he  kils, 
The  tawni  juva  gils,  she  gils, 
A  puro  Rommany  gillie, 
Now  shoon  the  Rommany  gillie." 

3.  The  third  and  last  MS.  is  complete,  but  varies  considerably  from  the 
printed  text.  Romany  is  written  with  two  m's,  as  in  Lavengro  throughout ; 
in  the  fourth  verse  it  reads :  "  In  Rommany  chib :  chiv  lis  odoy  opre  the 
chik  " ;  fourth  line  omits  "  and " ;  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  verses  it  gives 
"  sorlo "  properly,  instead  of  "  saulo "  ;  in  seventh  verse  it  reads  "  his 
wendror,"  and  in  the  last,  "  boshom-engro  "  and  "  tawni  ". 

From  all  these  variants  it  results  that  MS.  No.  3  furnishes  a  better 
reading  than  the  printed  text. 

Page  42.  Ursula's  Song :  By  the  aid  of  the  Gypsy  list  at  the  end  of 
this  volume,  the  translation  can  be  easily  made  out  by  the  curious  reader. — 
46.  Piramus :  In  MS.  also  Priamus. — Sanpriel :  Corrupt  form  ofSanspareil, 
unrivalled. — Synfye :  Slavonic  form  of  Cynthia — t h  in  Russian  is  pronounced 
4>h  or/:  Thomas,  Fomas.— 47.  Life  of  Charles:  Add  XIIth.—^S.  The 
church :  Mentioned  as  three  miles  from  the  dingle,  and  on  pp.  53,  no,  as 
at  M.,  has  not  yet  been  discovered. — 58.  The  Edda :  Early  Icelandic  literary 
monuments,  consisting  of  the  Elder  or  Poetic  Edda  collected  by  Saemund, 
and  the  later  or  Prose  Edda  collected  by  Snorro  Sturleson.  See  Mallet's 
Northern  Antiquities,  Bohn's  Edition. — Sagas:  Early  historical  tales 
handed  down  by  oral  tradition.  See  Bibliog. — 67.  Anselo  Herne : 
His  clan-name.  See  note  to  p.  363  of  Lavengro.  68.  Pulci :  Luigi  Pulci 
(1432-87).  See  Bibliog. — 69.  Ingravidata  (It.) :  With  child. — Enacquene, 
etc. :  "  And  of  her  a  son  was  born,  says  story,  who  subsequently  gave 
great  victory  to  Charlemagne". — 71.  Fortiguerra:  Niccolo  Fortiguerra 
(1674-1735).  He  did  not  live  to  print  his  voluminous  poem  entitled  Ric- 


382  NOTES. 


ciardetto,  having  died  in  1735,  just  "  ninety  years  "  from  the  date  1825,  as 
our  text  declares. —76.  Slammocks,  etc. :  Norwich  worthies,  I  suppose;  at 
least  I  do  not  find  them  in  the  Boxiana  at  my  command. — 89.  The  Armenian 
in  this  (xivth)  chapter  I  find  correct.  Hramahyel  should  have  been  given 
hrama'iyel,  hntal,  etc.,  khntal  (xvraX),  and  madagh,  madag.  See  "  Villotte '.' 
in  the  Bibliog. — 91.  Hard-mouthed  jade  :  This  favourite  expression  of  Mr. 
Borrow's  proceeds,  I  opine,  from  his  readings  in  the  quaint  eighteenth 
century  literature  with  which  his  library  abounded.  In  Defoe's  Moll 
Flanders,  p.  301,  edition  of  1722,  we  read:  "The  witnesses  were  the  two 
wenches,  a  couple  of  hard  mouthed  jades  indeed".  And  on  p.  323:  "A 
hard  mouth'd  man  ". — 93.  Brynhilda :  See  note  to  p.  38. — 133-34.  The 
"daffodil"  poet:  William  Wordsworth  (1770-1850). — 141.  Carlo  Borro- 
meo :  The  Cardinal  saint,  born,  1538,  died  1584. — 143.  Bricconi  abbasso 
(It.) :  "  Down  with  the  rogues !  " 

Page  157.  Friar  Bacon :  The  celebrated  scientist  Roger  Bacon  (1214- 
94)  was  fated,  like  Virgil,  to  be  popularly  metamorphosed  into  a  magician 
and  conjuror.  Hence  the  "  Friar  Bacon  "  series  of  chap-books,  extending 
(so  far  as  we  know  them)  from  the  sixteenth  century  to  the  present.  I  will 
give  the  passage  referred  to  by  Mr.  Borrow,  so  that  it  may  be  seen  that  the 
myth  had  no  reference  to  the  railway.  No.  3  in  Bibliog.,  leaf  8 : — 

"  Chapter  V.  How  Miles  watched  the  Brazen-head,  and  in  the  end  went 
away  from  his  master. 

"  Fryer  Bacon,  having  performed  many  wonderful  things  by  his 
curious  Art,  was  now  sifting  out  how  he  might  wall  England  with  brass ; 
wherefore  he  and  Fryer  Bungy,  when  they  had  raised  the  devil,  bound  him 
to  a  tree,  for  to  make  him  tell  them  how  it  might  be  performed.  He  told 
them  that  they  should  make  a  Brazen-head,  which  (if  they  could  watch  it 
till  it  spoke)  would  tell  them  how  it  might  be  done.  The  head  was  made, 
and  they  watched  till  they  could  watch  no  longer.  At  last  Fryer  Bungey 
persuaded  Fryer  Bacon  to  let  his  man  Miles  watch  while  they  slept ;  to 
which  the  Fryer  agreed.  Then  Miles  was  called,  who  undertook  to  awake 
them  when  the  Head  would  speak.  So  to  sleep  they  went,  and  Miles  expected 
some  great  speech  to  come  from  the  Head.  At  last  the  Head  cryed, '  TIME 
IS  ' ;  at  which  Miles  fell  into  a  great  laughter,  and  made  his  scoffs  and  jears 
thereat.  Then  it  said,  '  TIME  WAS' ;  but  yet  he  would  not  awake  his 
master,  counting  them  but  silly  and  frivolous  words.  Lastly,  the  Head  said, 
'  TIME  IS  PAST'  ;  at  which  words  down  it  fell,  and  in  falling  made  such 
a  noise  that  it  awakened  the  two  Fryers,  and  had  almost  affrighted  poor 
Miles  out  of  his  senses,"  etc. 

Page  158.  L  .  .  .,  read  Liverpool;  C  .  .  .,  read  Chester.— 162.  Brooke 
of  Borneo:  Sir  James  Brooke,  Rajah  of  Sarawak  (1803-68),  George 
Borrow's  school-mate  at  Norwich  in  1816-17-18.— 165.  "  Vails  "  :  He  means, 
of  course,  vale. — 175-6-7.  Romanvile  :  London.  See  "  English  Rogue  "  in 
Bibl.—ij6.  The  chi  she  is  kaulo  (read  kanley),  etc. :  "  The  lass  she  is  black, 
she  sleeps  upon  her  back  ". — 177-78.  Sivord  :  Or  Sivard,  the  same  as  Sigurd, 
called  the  Snaresvend  ("  Snareswayne  "  on  the  next  page).  See  note  to  p. 
38,  and  Romantic  Ballads,  1826,  pp.  83  and  90.  For  the  reason  of  Borrow's 
changing  the  Danish  svend  into  "swayne,"  see  Life,  ii.,  p.  269.— The  horse 
Grayman  :  i.e.,  the  "  Skimming  gray  "  of  p.  96,  Romantic  Ballads. — 183. 
The  Maugrabin  sorcerer:  The  "  African  Magician  "  in  Lane's  translation. 
There  is  in  this  passage  of  The  Romany  Rye  evidently  a  confusion  of  two  of 
the  tales  in  the  Arabian  Nights— those  of  Aladdin  and  Sindbad,  fifth  voyage. 
—221.  Isten  (pron.  tshten) :  Hung,  for  God.— 222.  Magyar  (pron.  mddjr) ; 


NOTES.  383 


A  Hungarian.— 223.  Te'ke'li  (1658-1705).— L'Eau  de  la  Reine  d'Hongrie, 
read  de  Hongrie,  h  being  aspirate  in  this  word. — Pigault-Lebrun  (Charles), 
1753-1835  ;  Les  Barons  de  Felsheim,  Paris,  1822. — Ersebet,  read  Erszebet, 
Elisabeth. — Florentius  of  Buda:  Flourished  1790-1805.  See  "  Budai 
Ferencz  "  in  the  Bibliog. — 224.  Almus,  or  Almos  (almosh),  died  889.  The 
Hungarian  scholar  Vamberi,  has  exploded  the  "  dream  "  (or  rather  "  sleep  ") 
theory  heretofore  entertained  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  name  Almos  ; 
he  says  it  is  an  epithet,  meaning  the  Great,  the  Sublime,  the  Noble,  the 
Glorious  (Ursprung,  pp.  62,  156). — 225  (228  and  elsewhere),  Dunau,  read 
Donau,  Germ,  for  Danube. — Kiraly  and  Haz  :  The  former  comes  from  the 
Servian  Kralj  (Ij  like  Span.  //  or  Port.  Ih),  which  the  Hungarian  lengthened 
into  kir-aly,  not  finding  it  convenient  to  pronounce  kr.1  As  for  haz,  from 
haus  (Austrian  pop.  pronunciation  hos),  we  are  told  by  Vamberi  that  the 
ancient  form  was  not  haz,  but  hoz  (Ursp.,  p.  556). — 226.  Janos  (pron.  Yanosh] : 
John. — 228.  Szava  (Hung.) :  The  Save. — 229.  Laszlo :  Ladislaus. — Cilejia  : 
The  Roman  Claudia  Celleia,  now  Cilly,  in  Carinthia. — 230.  Matyas :  In 
English  Matthias.— Huz,  read  husz  (Hung.) :  Twenty.  Vamberi  questions 
this  etymology  of  "  hussar "  (p.  283),  but  unsatisfactorily,  we  think. — 
Ulazslo  :  Wladislaus. — Tch6  Drak  :  The  Roumanian  c'e  dracii,  but  pro- 
nounced as  in  the  text,  and  equivalent  to  the  exclamation  que  diable  ! — Mohacs 
Veszedelem,  read  Mohacsi  Veszedelem :  The  Disaster  of  Mohacs,  the  title 
of  a  poem  by  Baron  Liszti. — 231.  Batory  :  A  mere  epithet,  the  "  valiant ". — 
232.  Lajos  (la'i-osh),  Louis  or  Lewis. — Mufti :  The  ulemas  or  Doctors  of  the 
(Mahomedan)  law. — 233.  Coloscvar,  read  Koloszvar,  in  German,  Klausen- 
burg. — Budai'  Ferencz :  See  Bibliog. — 235.  Rysckie  Tsar,  read  Russki 
Tsar:  The  Russian  Emperor. — Plescova,  now  Pskov. — Ivan  Basilowitz, 
read  Vasilievitch,  known  as  Ivdn  the  Terrible. — 236.  Izbushka  (Russ.) :  Hut. 
— Tyzza,  read  Tisza  :  The  river  Theiss. — Kopacs  Teto,  read  Kopasz  Teto. 
— Kassau,  read  Kaschau. — 239.  Eljen  edes,  etc.  (pron.  elyen  edesh  tsigan  oor, 
elyen  gool  era'i) :  "  Long  live  the  sweet  Gypsy  gentleman,  long  live  the  gudlo 
Rye  ". — 241.  Roth-Welsch :  The  German  for  Thieves'  Slang. — Tzernebock, 
read  Tchernobog  (g  like  Germ,  ch) :  Black  god,  evil  principle. — Bielebock, 
leadBielbog:  White  god,  the  good  principle. — 242.  Saxo-Gramaticus,  read 
Gratnmaticus,  see  Bibliog.  — Fekete  (Hung.) :  Black. — 246.  Erik  Bloodaxe 
(Danish  Blodoxe) :  King  of  Norway,  Snorro,  1633,  p.  64. — 256.  Regner 
Lodbrok :  "  Regnar  "  in  Icelandic  ;  Borrow  gives  the  Danish  form  of  this 
king's  name.  See  his  famous  Death  Song  in  Mallet,  pp.  383-85. — Halgerdr, 
read  Halgerda,  Mallet,  pp.  340-41. — 257.  Biorn,  read  Bjorn,  and  Ivarr,  Ivar. 
—258.  Verdammt  (Germ.) :  Confounded. 

Page  262.  "Wife  selling":  A  very  common  practice  among  a  certain 
class,  it  seems,  in  England  ;  and,  as  this  will  hardly  be  credited  in  America, 
I  will  append  some  extracts  from  the  newspapers.  The  Norfolk  Chronicle 
of  5th  May,  1894,  says :  "  The  belief  formerly  prevailed,  especially  among 
the  rural  population,  that  a  man  had  a  perfectly  legal  right  to  sell  his  wife 
to  another,  provided  he  observed  two  indispensable  formalities.  One  was 
that  he  placed  a  halter  about  her  neck,  and  the  other  that  he  led  her  into 
the  market  and  publicly  transferred  her  to  the  purchaser.  Numerous  instances 
of  these  strange  transactions  have  been  recorded.  Our  columns,  on  the  gth 
of  February,  1805,  contained  an  account  of  the  sale  of  a  wife  at  Norwich. 
A  Kentish  tailor,  the  affections  and  person  of  whose  amiable  spouse  had 
been  jockeyed  away  by  a  neighbouring  horse-dealer,  caparisoned  her  neck 

i  Like  Ingiliz  in  Turkish,  for  English  ;  Beritania  (England)  in  Hawaiian,  for 
Britannia. 


384  NOTES. 


with  a  halter  and  surrendered  all  right  and  title  to  his  virtuous  rib,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  sum  of  £5.  On  the  2nd  of  May,  1823,  a  similar  sale  was 
effected  in  this  city.  A  man  named  Stebbings  disposed  of  his  wife  to  a  person 
named  Turner  for  the  sum  of  £6  IDS.  The  latter  paid  £4  on  account,  took 
the  woman  home,  and  brutally  turned  his  lawful  wife  out  of  doors." 

The  London  Daily  Mail  of  ist  March,  1899,  prints  the  following  : — 
"Very  few  people  are  aware  that  wives  are  literally  sold  to-day  in 
England.  A  very  common  error  of  the  vulgar  is  that  a  man  by  selling  his 
wife  releases  himself  from  the  marriage  contract  as  surely  as  if  he  were 
legally  divorced.  In  March,  1796,  The  Times  announced  the  sale  of  a  wife 
at  Sheffield  for  sixpence.  A  short  time  afterwards  the  same  journal  calmly 
stated  that  the  price  of  wives  has  risen  in  Smithfield  Market  from  half  a 
guinea  to  three  guineas  and  a  half!  In  1803  a  man  led  his  wife,  by  a 
halter  round  her  neck,  into  the  cattle  market  at  Sheffield,  and  sold  her  for  a 
guinea,  the  purchaser  leading  away  the  woman  to  his  home.  In  1820  a  man 
named  Brouchet  hired  a  cattle-pen  in  the  Canterbury  market,  placed  his  wife 
in  it,  and  ultimately  sold  her  for  55.  Then  wives  began  to  increase  in  value, 
for  soon  afterwards  one  was  sold  for  £15.  This  was  followed  by  a  '  slump '. 
In  1855  a  man  Ied  his  wife  with  a  halter  round  her  waist  into  Derby  market- 
place and  offered  her  for  sale,  but  all  he  could  get  for  her  was  eighteen  pence 
and  a  quart  of  ale.  In  1873  a  husband  left  his  home  and  creditors  in  Belper 
for  the  liberty  of  America.  The  week  after  his  flight  all  his  goods  were  put 
up  for  auction  to  satisfy  his  debts.  His  wife  claimed  part  of  the  money,  and 
this  being  refused  she  insisted  on  being  offered  for  sale  as  part  of  her  hus- 
band's assets.  There  was  no  sale,  however,  for  '  Lot  29 '.  In  even  more 
recent  days  wife  sales  were  common,  and  are  even  being  effected  in  this 
present  year  of  grace.  In  1882  John  Wilson,  a  collier  of  Alfreton,  Derby- 
shire, sold  his  wife  in  a  public-house  for  fourpence.  Sheffield  knife-grinders 
have  long  been  noted  for  their  transactions  in  the  wife  trade.  Within  quite 
recent  times  many  a  Sheffield  wife  has  been  sold  by  her  husband  for  a  gallon 
of  beer,  which  has  been  drunk  on  the  spot.  Sometimes  these  sales  assume 
a  more  formal  aspect.  In  1887,  in  the  Sheffield  County  Court,  a  man 
admitted  that  he  had  bought  another  man's  wife  for  55.  Most  of  these 
discreditable  '  deals  '  escape  notice,  but  a  case  has  come  to  light  where  a  man 
agreed  to  sell  his  wife  to  a  collier,  and  the  trio,  with  the  woman's  father 
and  mother  and  two  family  friends,  assembled  to  arrange  terms.  Thirty 
shillings  was  the  price  finally  agreed  on.  Four  years  ago,  at  Leeds,  a  man 
charged  with  bigamy  pleaded  that,  as  he  had  sold  his  wife  for  35.  6d.  to 
another  man,  he  could  marry  again  legally !  Eighteen  months'  imprisonment 
was  what  he  got,  and  more  than  deserved.  A  police  court  case  in  1896  at 
Doncaster  revealed  the  fact  that  John  Tart  sold  his  wife  to  Enoch  Childs, 
on  the  understanding  that  the  latter  reared  the  vendor's  four  children.  In  a 
Durham  court  in  1894  it  transpired  that  a  man  named  Shaw  sold  his 
daughter,  a  girl  of  sixteen,  to  a  collier  called  Cudman,  for  is.  Many  a  wife 
is  at  present  sold  in  the  East  End  of  London,  as  well  as  in  Yorkshire,  for  a 
quart  of  beer  or  an  ounce  of  thick  twist.  It  is  the  poor  man's  method  of 
divorce,  and  such  is  popular  ignorance  that  there  are  scores  of  people  who 
imagine  that  selling  a  wife  is  as  legal  a  separation  as  a  decree  nisi  pronounced 
by  a  bewigged  and  berobed  judge." 

Page  265.  Herodotus :  The  story  is  found  in  Thalia  III.,  84-88  (pp. 
208-9  of  Gary's  Eng.  translation).  The  groom's  name  was  CE bares. — 
266.  Deaghblasda,  read  deaghbhlasda  (Ir.):  Sweet-tasted,  dainty.  This 
is  the  soothing  word  hinted  at,  but  not  given,  in  Lavengro,  p.  83.— 269.  At 


NOTES.  385 


H  .  .  .,  read  Hertford,  where  John  Thurtell  was  hanged,  gth  January,  1824. 
— Ned  Flatnose :  Ed.  Painter  of  Norwich. — 270.  Spring  :  His  true  name  was 
Thomas  Winter ;  see  Lavengro,  p.  168.  He  died  2Oth  August,  1851. — 276. 
.  .  .  Fair,  read  Greenwich  Fair,  on  Easter  Monday.  See  Dickens'  Sketches. 
— 279.  Oilien  (and  p.  295,  Oilein)  nan  Naomha,  read  Oilcan  na  Naomhtha 
(Ir.):  Island  of  the  Saints  (Patrick  and  Columba).— Finn-ma-Coul :  The 
tale  of  Finn  was  first  learned  by  Borrow  in  January,  1854.,  from  his  Irish 
guide  Cvonan,  while  travelling  in  Cornwall  (Life,  ii.,  p.  86,  and  note). 
This  fact  shows  that  Murtagh  and  his  tale  are  introduced  here  to  exhibit 
the  author's  discovery  of  the  identity  between  the  Finn  of  Ireland  and  the 
Eddaic  tradition  of  Sigurd  Fafnisbane  (p.  281).  For  Sigurd  in  the  Wilkina 
Saga  is  suckled  by  a  hind  (p.  120)  and  fostered  by  Mymmer  Smed  or  Mimer 
the  Smith  (p.  121)  whom  he  eventually  slays  (p.  124).  In  the  Eddaic  Lay 
of  the  serpent-killer  we  read  :  "  Sigurd  took  the  heart  of  Fafnir  and  broiled 
it  on  a  spit.  And  when  he  judged  that  it  was  done,  he  touched  it  with  his 
finger  to  ascertain  if  that  were  really  the  case.  Having  burned  his  finger  in 
the  act,  he  put  it  to  his  mouth,  and  no  sooner  had  the  heart's  blood  of  Fafnir 
come  in  contact  with  Sigurd's  tongue  than  he  understood  the  speech  of 
birds,"  etc.  Here  we  have  the  two  sides  verified,  the  Irish  by  Cronan,  and 
the  Scandian  by  the  Edda.  But  Brooke's  Reliques,  a  favourite  work  of 
Borrow's  in  his  Norwich  days,  and  which  he  cites  in  1832  (Life,  i.,  p.  146), 
give  us  certain  other  fragments  of  these  Finnic  fables,  whereby  we  can  trace 
the  sources  of  the  text  before  us.  For  example,  after  Jack  Dale  had  stripped 
Murtagh  of  all  his  money  he  is  observed  to  be  sitting  "  in  deep  despondency, 
holding  his  thumb  to  his  mouth  "  (p.  278).  And  a  little  farther  on  (p.  282) 
a  verse  is  cited  from  "  Conan  the  Bald  ".  Now  all  this  is  found  in  Miss 
Brooke,  that  is,  the  names  and  the  ideas — Conan  the  Bald  (p.  106),  Lochlin  (p. 
46),  and  Darmod  Odeen  (minus  Taffy)  and  the  verse  with  this  note  (p.  109) : — 
"  This  strange  passage  is  explained  by  some  lines  in  the  Poem  of  Dub- 
mac-Dighruibh,  where  Finn  is  reproached  with  deriving  all  his  courage  from 
chewing  his  thumb  for  prophetic  information." — 281.  Siol  Loughlin,  read 
Lochlin  (Ir.)  :  Literally  "  the  seed  of  Norway,"  i.e.,  the  Danish  or  Norwegian 
race.  Miss  Brooke  very  properly  says  (p.  46) :  "  Lochlin  is  the  Gaelic  (and 
Irish)  name  for  Scandinavia  in  general "  ;  but  Borrow  limits  it  to  Denmark 
— the  Danish  race.  And  a  little  below,  "  the  Loughlin  songs  "  are  his  Danish 
Ballads  which  he  published  the  following  year. 

Page  283.  The  story  of  Murtagh  at  the  Irish  College  in  Rome,  and  his 
subsequent  wanderings  in  the  South  of  France  and  in  Spain,  mask,  as  we 
have  said  elsewhere,  the  peregrinations  of  George  Borrow  in  1826-27. — 286. 
M'anarn  on  Dioul :  Explained  in  Lavengro,  note  to  p.  65.— 291.  Dungarvon 
times  of  old  :  See  Life,  i.,  p.  46,  and  ii.,  pp.  16-17.  Cradock's  letter  was  dated, 
i8th  August,  1849,  and  Mr.  B.'s  answer  (i.,  p.  146)  a  little  after. — Raparees: 
Irish  marauders,  temp.  James  II.  See  Life,  i.,  p.  146,  and  Brooke's  Reliques, 
p.  205.  The  latter  says  that  the  word  is  from  the  Irish  Reubbir  Ri,  plunderer, 
robber,  freebooter  of  the  king,  from  reubaim,  I  tear. — 292.  Chiviter  Vik : 
Civita  Vecchia,  the  modern  seaport  of  Rome,  fifty  miles  distant. — Army  of 
the  Faith :  Spanish  frontier  corps  of  observation  under  Gen.  Don  Vicente 
Quesada,  1823-24. — Prince  Hilt:  The  Duke  d'Angouleme,  nephew  of  Louis 
XVIII. ,  and  son  of  the  Count  d'Artois  (afterwards  Charles  X.).  D'Angouleme 
invaded  Spain  in  1823  with  100,000  Frenchmen,  to  restore  Ferdinand  VII. 
to  his  absolute  throne,  against  the  Liberals  of  1820-23. — 298.  To  .  .  .,  read 
Rome.— At  .  .  .,  read  Rome. — Educated  at  .  .  .,  read  Rome.— 300.  Direc- 
tion of  the  east,  read  south.  He  could  only  have  gone  south  from  Horn- 


386  HOTES. 


castle  to  reach  Boston  (the  "  large  town  on  the  arm  of  the  sea  ")  that  day. 
The  next  he  came  to  Spalding,  some  fifteen  miles  farther,  where  he  met  the 
recruiting  serjeant,  thence  on  to  Norwich  by  Lynn  Regis. 

We  must  not  forget  that  before  Lavcngro  was  begun,  and  fifteen  years 
prior  to  the  publication  of  The  Romany  Rye,  that  is,  26th  December,  1842, 
Mr.  Petulengro  remarked  to  George  Borrow  at  Oulton :  "  I  suppose  you 
have  not  forgot  how,  fifteen  [seventeen]  years  ago,  when  you  made  horse- 
shoes in  the  dingle  by  the  side  of  the  great  north  road,  I  lent  you  fifty  guineas 
to  purchase  the  wonderful  trotting  cob  of  the  innkeeper  with  the  green  New- 
market coat,  which  three  days  after  you  sold  for  two  hundred".1  Now,  this 
is  a  very  remarkable  statement,  and,  taken  in  connection  with  the  fact  that 
so  little  is  said  about  Horncastle  in  the  book,  it  seems  to  me  we  are  justified 
in  proclaiming  that  Borrow  was  never  in  Horncastle  at  all.  The  interview 
with  the  Magyar  and  the  syllabus  of  Hungarian  history  are  clearly  drawn 
from  his  experiences  in  Hungary  and  Transylvania  in  the  year  1844,  and 
hence  are  an  anachronism  here.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  author  did  not  adhere 
to  the  chronological  facts  of  his  life  so  strictly  in  The  Romany  Rye  as  he  did 
in  Lavengro.  Truth  and  literature  would  have  gained  by  it.  And  then  that 
valedictory  pledge,2  confirmed  in  the  appendix,  drawing  a  veil  over  the 
period  of  his  travails,  if  not  his  travels,  was  an  error  of  judgment  which, 
in  an  autobiography  will,  we  fear,  not  easily  be  condoned. 


APPENDIX. 

Page  302.  Age  of  nineteen,  read  twenty ;  he  was  twenty-one  less  four 
months  at  his  father's  death.— 303.  Children  of  Roma:  Borrovian  for 
Gypsies. — 30^-6.  Balm  in  Mary  Flanders.  See  Lavengro,  note  to  p.  423. 
— 311.  Canning  :  Premier  from  24th  April  to  his  death,  8th  August,  1827 ; 
succeeded  by  Viscount  Goderich  from  September,  1827,  to  25th  January, 
1828. — 312.  Vaya!  que  demonio  es  este!  (Sp.) :  Bless  me!  what  demon 
have  we  here !— 314.  Sessions  of  Hariri :  Arabic  tales  in  prose  interlarded 
with  verse.  The  two  languages:  Chinese  and  Manchu.— 315-6.  Luigi 
Pulci :  lo  vo'  tagliar,  etc.  :  I'll  sever  the  hands  of  them  all  and  bring  them 
to  those  holy  monks.  Tu  sarai  or  perfetto,  etc. :  Now  thou  wilt  be  as  true 
a  friend  to  Christ  as  aforetime  thou  wert  his  foe  (M.  M.,  canto  i,  sts.  53 
and  57). — 318.  Oberon:  A  poem  by  Wieland  (1733-1813).— 319.  The  father 
of  Anglo-Germanism  :  Taylor  of  Norwich. — Andrew  Borde :  (see  Bibliog.). 
The  text  of  the  Bodleian  copy  (1547  ?)  runs  as  follows— (A  3  verso) : — 

"  I  am  an  Englysh  man,  and  naked  I  stand  here, 
Musyng  in  my  mynd  what  rayment  I  shall  were  ; 
For  now  I  wyll  were  thys,  and  now  I  wyl  were  that, 
Now  I  wyl  were  I  cannot  tel  what. 
All  new  fashyons  be  plesaunt  to  me, 
I  wyll  haue  them,  whether  I  thryue  or  thee  ; 
Now  I  am  a  frysker,  all  men  doth  on  me  looke, 
What  should  I  do  but  set  cocke  on  the  hoope  ; 

1  Zincali,  1843,  second  ed.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  146.* 

*  "  I  think  I'll  go  there,"  p.  301.  "  He  is  about  to  quit  his  native  land  on  a 
grand  philological  expedition,"  p.  303. 


387 


What  do  I  care  yf  all  the  worlde  me  fayle, 

I  wyl  get  a  garment  shal  reche  to  my  tayle  ; 

Than  I  am  a  minion,  for  I  were  the  new  gyse  ; 

The  yere  after  this  I  trust  to  be  wyse, 

Not  only  in  wering  my  gorgious  aray, 

For  I  wyl  go  to  learnyng  a  hoole  somers  day  ; 

I  wyll  learne  Latyne,  Hebrew,  Grecke  and  Frencl  e, 

And  I  wyl  learne  Douche  sittyng  on  my  benche  ; 

I  do  feare  no  man,  all  men  fearyth  me, 

I  ouercome  my  aduersaries  by  land  and  by  see  ; 

I  had  no  peere  yf  to  my  selfe  I  were  trew, 

Because  I  am  not  so  diuers  times  I  do  rew  ; 

Yet  I  lake  nothing,  I  haue  all  thyng  at  wyll 

If  were  wyse  and  wold  holde  my  selfe  styll, 

And  medel  wyth  no  matters  not  to  me  partayning  ; 

But  I  haue  suche  matters  rolling  in  my  pate, 

That  I  wyl  speake  and  do  I  cannot  tell  what."  etc. 

— 321.  Mr.  Flamson :  Samuel  Morton  Peto,  M.P.,  later  Sir  Morton  Peto 
of  Somerleyton  Hall,  some  five  miles  inland  from  Lowestoft.  See  Life,  ii., 
p.  52. — 327.  Orcadian  poet:  "  Ragnvald,  Earl  of  the  Orkney  Islands,  passed 
for  a  very  able  poet ;  he  boasts  himself,  in  a  song  of  his  which  is  still  extant, 
that  he  knew  how  to  compose  verses  on  all  subjects,"  Mallet,  p.  235.  The 
original  Runic  of  the  lines  translated  by  Borrow  is  found  in  Olaus  Wormius. 
Transliterated  into  Latin  letters  they  read  thus  : — 

Tafl  cm  eg  or  at  efta 
Idrottir  kan  eg  nin 
Turn  eg  tradla  Runur 
Tid  er  mer  bog  og  smider 
Skrid  kann  eg  a  gidum 
Shot  eg  og  re  so  nyter 
Hvor  tweggia  kan  ek  hyggiu 
Harpslatt  og  bragdattu. 

— 329.  Lieut.  P.  .  .,  read  Perry.  The  item  was  taken  from  a  newspaper 
(which,  I  know  not)  published  in  September,  1854.  Mr.  Borrow  read  it  at 
Llangollen  in  Wales.  I  loaned  the  clipping  and  it  was  not  returned. — 330. 
Balaklava :  The  usual  etymon  of  this  famous  name  is  the  Italian  Bella 
chiave,  beautiful  key. — 331.  Companion  of  Bligh :  This  was  Thomas 
Hayward. — Once  :  See  Bligh's  Narrative  (Bibliog.),  p.  55. — 336.  "  Malditas 
scan  tus  tripas,"  etc.  :  This  Borrovian  Spanish  must  be  rendered  truthfully 

or  not  at  all.     The  squeamish  may  excuse  the  borracha :  "D yourg s; 

we  had  enough  of  the  stink  of  your  g s  the  day  you  ran  away  from  the 

battle  of  the  Boyne  ". — 338.  Coronach  (Gaelic),  read  Corranach  :  The  funeral 
wail,  a  dirge;  in  Irish,  coranach. — 342.  Abencerages,  read  Abencerragcs : 
Arab,  ibn-serradj  ;  son  of  the  saddle. — 349-50.  Whiffler :  See  note  to  Lav- 
engro,  p.  225. — 352.  Francis  Spira :  Francesco  Spiera,  a  lawyer  of  Cittadella 
(Venice),  accepted  the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  in  1548.  Terrified  by 
the  menaces  of  the  Church  of  Rome  and  the  prospective  ruin  of  his  family, 
he  went  to  Venice  and  solemnly  abjured  the  Evangelical  faith  in  the  hands 
of  the  Legate,  Giovan  della  Casa  (see  Diet,  de  Bayle)  who  reqtm  ed  him  to 
return  home  and  repeat  his  abjuration  before  his  fellow-townsmen  and  the 
local  authorities.  Having  performed  this  act,  he  fell  into  the  horrid  state  of 


remorse  depicted  in  the  Protestant  accounts  of  the  time.  The  report  was 
first  brought  to  Geneva  by  Pietro  Paolo  Vergerio,  ex-bishop  of  Pola,  who  visited 
Spiera  in  his  last  moments  at  Padua,  whence  he  himself  bent  his  way  to  the 
Valtelina,  as  a  fugitive  from  the  Roman  Church. — Duncan  Campbell  and 
Falconer  :  See  Bibliog. — John  Randall :  Here  is  a  confusion  of  John  Rolfe 
and  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  (1773-1833).  Pocahontas,  daughter  of  the 
Indian  Chief  Powhatan,  saved  the  life  of  Captain  John  Smith  in  Virginia 
and  married  John  Rolfe  in  1614.  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  claimed  to  be 
descended  from  Pocahontas,  but  Rolfe  is  evidently  the  one  referred  to  in  the 
text.  See  Bibliog.  under  "  Pocahontas  ". — 354.  I riarte  (1750-96) :  Spanish 
poet  and  writer  of  fables.  See  Bibliog. — 355.  Autobiographical  character 
of  Lavengro  denied :  but  see  Life,  ii.,  pp.  3-27  and  211. — 357.  Ginnungag-ap : 
The  "yawning  abyss"  of  Northern  Mythology.  See  Mallet,  p.  402. — 359. 
Horinger  Bay:  See  note  on  Lavengro,  p.  46. — 360.  Harum-beck,  read 
harmanbeck,  as  in  Lavengro,  p.  158. — Holkham  Estate :  The  seat  of  the  Cokes 
of  Norfolk  and  the  Earl  of  Leicester.  See  White's  Norfolk,  and  the  C  ...  of 
Lavengro,  p.  124. — 363.  He  said  in  '32:  See  Life,  i.,  p.  143. — Son  of  Nor- 
folk clergyman  :  Nelson  (nom  de  noms  /). — 364-66.  Thistlewood  and  Ings  : 
See  article  in  Celebrated  Lives  and  Trials,  vol.  vi.,  p.  339. — 368.  The  old 
Radical :  John  Bowring  in  1821. — Vol.  of  translations  :  See  "  Bowring  "  in 
Bibliog.— Red  Rhys :  Rhys  Goch  of  Snowdon.  See  Wild  Wales,  p.  150, 
and  "  Gorchestion  "  in  Bibliog. — 369.  The  Doctor  of  Medicine:  Dr.  Lewis 
Evans.  See  Life,  i.f  p.  74.— 370.  S  .  .  .,  read  Southey. — Literary  project 
(1829-30) :  See  Life,  i.,  p.  129. — 371.  Astoifo  :  His  journey  to  the  moon  men- 
tioned in  Pulci,  ed.  1546,  Canto  xxi.,  f.  cxx.  b : — 

44  Malagigi  tagliava  le  parole, 
Astoifo  sopra  'I  suo  caval  rimonta; 
Cavalcano  a  la  luna  tanto  e  al  sole 
Che  capitorno  al  castel  di  Creonta  ". 

— 372.    In   ,   iead   China. — 373.   To   ,  read   China. — Copy  of  a 

work  :  Sorrow's  edition  of  the  Manchu  New  Testament,  St.  Petersburg, 
1835,  in  8  parts,  410. — All  the  dashes  mean  Canton  or  China. — "  Serendib  : 
(Ceylon)  put  for  China. 


COMPLETE    LIST  OF  ENG.   GYPSY   WORDS   SCAT- 
TERED THROUGH  LAVENGRO  AND  ROMANY  RYE. 

Common  European  G.  forms  are  in  parentheses. 


Abri  (avn),  out,  forth. 


Ambrdl,  a  pear. 

Ande,  in,  into. 

Angar,  charcoal,  coal. 

Apopli,  again,  once  more. 

Aukko  (aveka),  here  is. 

Ava  \  „ 

Avail)  yeS' 

Avella  (3rd  sing,  of  avava),  becomes; 

gorgio   a.,    some    one    is   coming. 

[Avava,  avesa,  avela.] 

Balluva  (balo),  pork. 

Bald,  hog. 

Barf,  f.  bari,  pi.  bare,  big,  great. 

Batu,  father. 

Baulo,  see  balo. 

Bawlor  (pi.  of  bald),  swine. 

Bebee  (bibi],  aunt;   (in  G.  B.  grand- 

mother, with  and  without  grand). 
Beng,  toad  ;  dragon,  devil. 
Bengui  (Sp.  G.  bengut),  i.q.  beng. 
Besh  (beshava),  to  sit. 
Beti,  a  little,  a  bit  of. 
Bitchadey    (bichavde  ;    pi.   of  bich- 

avdo),  sent.     With  pawdel,  trans- 

ported. 

Bokht  (bakht),  fate,  luck,  fortune. 
3oro,  see  barb. 

Borodromengro,  highwayman. 
Boshom    (bashava,  I  sing  or   play), 

violin,  fiddle. 
Boshomengro,  fiddler. 
Boval6  (barvalo),  rich. 
Bute  (but),  much.     B.  dosta,  a  good 

many,  plenty  of. 


Cafi  (Kapfyi),  horse-shoe  nail. 
Calor6,  i,  a  Spanish  Gypsy.     Dim. 

of  calo ;  see  kalo. 
Cambri  (kamiri),  with  child. 
Camomescro  (fr.  kamama,  I  love),  a 

Lovell  (Gypsy  tribe-name). 
Cana  (kanna),  when. 
Caulor  (collar,  L.L.),  pi.  shillings. 
Chabe,  pi.  ot 

Chab6  (tchavo),  child,  lad ;  Gypsy. 
Chachipen  (tchatchipe),  truth. 
Chal  (chabal  or  chaval,  still  existant 
in   Spain),  lad;    Gypsy.      Romany 
ch.,  Gypsy;  R.  chi,  Gypsy  (lass). 
Chal  (foijal,  from  Java).     Ch.  Dev- 
lehi    (fa   Devlesa),    go   with    God, 
farewell. 

Chav6,  i.q.  chabo. 
Chi  (tchai),  girl,  lass,  child;  Gypsy. 
Chibando   (Sp.  G.,  see  chive),    tos- 
sing ;  preaching  (a  sermon). 
Chick  (tchik),  dirt,  mud. 
Chie,  i.q.  chi. 
Chikn6   (tikno),   a    youth.      Tawno 

Ch.,  "Shorty". 
Chinomescro  (from  tchinava,  I  cut), 

chisel,  parer. 
Chipe  (tchip),  tongue. 
Chive  (tchivava),  to  throw;  to  pass 

(false  coin). 
Chfvios,  is  cast  (he). 
Chong  (tumba),  hill.     Ch.  gav,  Nor- 
wich, town  of  the  Castle  hill. 
Choomer  (tchumi),  a  kiss. 
Chore  (tchorava),  to  steal. 
Chories,  thieves. 

Chovahanee  (tchovekhani),  a  witch. 
Cb.ovah.an6  (tchovekhano),  a  wizard. 


(389) 


390 


GYPSY  LIST. 


Churi  (tchori),  knife. 

Coin  (kon),  who  ? 

Coko  (kako),  uncle. 

Colik6  (kaliko,  Sp.  G.  calicaste,  on 

the  morrow),    on  the   morrow,   in 

the  morning  (B.  's  "  early"  is  amis- 

take). 
Coor  (curava,  I  strike),  to  strike,  to 

hammer. 

Cooromengro,  boxer. 
Covantza,  anvil. 
Covar  (kovd),  a  thing. 


Cukkerin   (merely    alliterative  with 

dukkerin). 

Curomengro,  boxer. 
Czigany  (Hung.),  Gypsy—  (tsigan). 

Dearginni  (Hung.,   dorog,  thunder; 

dorgeni,  to  th.),  it  thunders. 
Dick  (dikava),  to  see. 
Dinelo  (denilo  or  dinilo),  a  fool. 
Divvus  (dives),  day. 
Dloovu  (error  for  lovo). 
Dook  (Slavic),  spirit,  soul,  divining 

spirit,  demon,  ghost.     Russ.  dii%. 
Dook,  to  spirit  away,  to  bewitch. 
Dosta,  enough. 
Dove  odoy  (fr.  odova),  that  there  ;  up 

yonder. 

Drab,  herb,  drug;  poison,  see  drow. 
Drab,  to  poison. 
Drabengro,  seller  of  medicines,  apo- 

thecary.   D.  kcr,  apothecary's  shop. 
Drom  (SptfjLos),  road,  way. 
Drow,   i.q.    drab  ;    often  pi.  drugs  ; 

poison. 
Dui,  two. 
Duk  (B.'s  dook). 
Dukker  (fr.  duk,  spirit  or  demon,  and 

ker,    to   make,    to   evoke),   to   tell 

any  one's  fortune,  to  tell  fortunes. 
Dukkerin  (the  in  is  Eng.  ing),  any 

one's    fortune    or    fortunes,    fate  ; 

fortune-telling.     "  To  pen  "  a  duk- 

kerin is  incorrect. 
Dukkerin   dook,  the  fortune-telling 

or  divining  spirit. 
Dukkeripen,  fortune-telling. 
Dumo  (dumb),  the  back. 
Duvel  (devil),  God. 
Duvelskoe  (dt9tt$kt)t  divine. 
Dye  (dai),  mother. 


Engro  (a  mere  adj.  ending,  er,  ing), 
Borrovian  for  "master,"  "fellow," 
"chap". 

Erajai  (rasha'i),  priest,  in  Sp.  Gyp. 

Eray,  see  rye. 

Farm-engro,  farmer. 

Fino,  Eng.  fine. 

F6ros  ($6pos  =  ayopa),  city,  town. 

Gav,  village,  town. 

Gil,  to  sing. 

Gillie  (ghili),  song,  ditty. 

Gitano,  a  (Sp.)  Gypsy. 

Gorgikie,  f.  of 

Gorgiko,  i,  non-gypsy. 

Gorgio  (gadjo),  non-gypsy,  stranger, 

somebody,  policeman. 
Gorgious,  adj.  formed  from  gorgio. 
Grandbebee,  grandmother.     See  bc- 

bee. 

Grasnf,  mare  ;  jade. 
Grondinni  (fr.  Roumanian),  it  hails. 
Gry  (gra'i),  horse.    Pellengo  g.,  stal- 

lion. 
Gudlo,  f,  sweet  ;  g.  pesham,  honey- 

comb. 
Gul  eray  (Hung.  G.  ?),  sweet  gentle- 

man. 

Habben  (khabe,  fr.  khavava,  I  eat), 

food,  victuals  ;  feast. 
Harkomescro  (arkichi,  tin),  tinker. 
Hatch,  to  cook  (evidently  fr.  pekava, 

rather  than  atchava). 
Hinjirf  (f.  of  hinjiro,  fr.  djandjir,  a 

chain),  executioner. 
Hir  mi  deviis  (or  diblis),  by  G  -  . 
Hokkawar  (khokhavava),  to  lie,  to 

cheat. 

Hokkeripen,  falsehood,  deception. 
Hors-worth,  pennyworth.    (Hors,  fr. 

grosch  ?) 

luziou  (shuzo),  clean. 

aw  (Java),  to  go.     See  chal. 
awing,  going. 
ib  (chib),  tongue,  language. 
0»  d°S> 


(y°ung)  woman- 


Kair,  see  kcr, 


GYPSY  LIST. 


391 


Kaird6,  see  Ker  do. 

Kal6,  f.  kali,  pi.  kale,  black,  dark. 

Kauley,  f.  otkaulo. 

Kaulo,  see  kalo. 

Kaulomescro,  blacksmith. 

Ke,  to. 

Kek,  none. 


Kekauviskoe  saster,  kettle  iron  or 

hook. 

Kekkaubi,  see  kekaubi. 
Kekken6,  no,  not  one. 
Ker,  house. 

Ker  (kerava),  to  make,  to  do. 
Kerdd,  made  (he). 
Kil  (kelava),  to  play. 
Kin  (kinava),  to  buy. 
Kistur  (klisava),  to  ride. 
Kitchema,  tavern,  ale-house. 
Kosko,  i,  good. 

Kraliisl  kinS'  see  craL 
Lachipen,  goodness. 

Lakie}  Vak^  her'  to  her' 
Lavengro,   "word-master,"   "philo- 

logist ". 
Lei    (lava,   lesa,   lela),   to   take  ;    to 

buy. 

Len,  i.q.  lende. 
Lende,  their,  to  them. 
Leste,  him. 
Levinor  (levina),  ale. 
Lil,  paper,  book. 
Lirf,  law. 
Lis,  it. 

Loll6  (lolo)t  red. 
Loovu,  see 

Lov6,  coin  ;  pi.  love,  money. 
Lubbeny  (lubni),  harlot. 
Lundra,  London. 
Luripen,  theft,  robbery. 

Mailla,  donkey. 
Man,  me. 
Mande,  to  me. 
Mang  (mangavd),  to  beg. 
Manriclf  (manriklo),  cake. 
Manr6,  bread. 
Manus  (manush),  man. 
Marel  (error  for  merel  :  merava,  me- 
resa,  merela  —  he  dies. 


Mek  (tmikava),  to  leave,  to  let  ;  mek 

Us,  drop  it. 
Men,  we. 

Mensar  (mensa),  with  us. 
Mer  (merava),  to  die. 
Mi  (me),  I. 
Miduveleskoe    HI,   divine  or  godly 

book. 

Mir6,  f,  my,  mine. 
Miry  (miri),  my. 
Morro,  bread. 

Muchtar  (muktar),  box,  tool-box. 
Mullf  (mulo),  dead. 

Nashicad6,  £  (nashavdo),  lost,  ruined  ; 

hanged  (G.  B.). 
Nashky,  gallows  (G.  B.). 
Nav,  name. 

O,  the. 


there,  here. 
Opre,  on,  upon,  up. 

Pa,  over,  for. 

Pal  (pral),  brother  ;  friend,  mate. 

Palor  (prala),  brothers. 

Parraco  (L.L.  paracrow  ;  Zinc,  pa- 

rauco),  I  thank. 
Patteran    (patrin),    leaf   of  a  tree, 

Gypsy  trail. 
Pawdel  (perdal),  on  the  other  side, 

across. 
Pellengo  (pelengro,  fc.pele,  testicles), 

with  gry,  a  stallion. 
Pen  (penava),  to  say,  to  tell. 
Peshota,  pi.  of  peshot  (pishot),  bel- 

lows. 

Petul  (petalo),  horse-shoe. 
Petulengro,head  of  theclan  "  Smith  ". 
Pindr6  (pinrd),  foot,  hoof. 
Pios  (fr.  piava,  I  drink),    health,  in 

toasting. 

Piramus,  MS.  Priamus. 
Plaistra  (klashta),  pincers,  tongs. 
Plastramengro,  runner,  detective. 


Poggad6,  f  (panghiardo),  broken. 
"oknees  (paknis,  a 
magistrate. 


a   man  of  trust), 


Praia,  voc.  of  pal  or  pral,  brother. 

Pre  (opre],  on,  upon. 

Pudamengro  (fr.  purdava  or  pudava, 

I  blow),  bellows. 
Pur6,  f.  purit  pi.  pure,  old,  ancient. 


392 


GYPSY  L/5T. 


Pus,  straw. 

Puv  (or  phuv)  earth,  ground. 

Ran,  stick,  rod,  cane. 

Rani,  lady,  wife. 

Rarde  (ratt),  night. 

Rat,  rate  and  rati,  blood,  race. 

Rawnie,  see  rani. 

Rig  (?)  to  carry. 

Rikkeno,  see  rinkeno. 

Rin,  a  file. 

Rinken6,  f,  pretty,  fine. 

Rom,  husband  ;  Gypsy. 

Roman,  Borrovian  for  Gypsy. 

Romaneskoenaes,  in  Gypsy  fashion. 

Romanies,  Gypsies. 

Romanly,  in  Gypsy,  Gypsy-like. 

Roman6,  f,  Gypsy. 

Romany  (Anglicised  form  of  .Romano, 

t),  Gypsy. 

Romany  Chal,  Gypsy. 
Romany  Chi,  Gypsy  (girl). 
Romany  Rye,  Gypsy  gentleman. 
Rome  and  dree  (Rom  andre  ?  Gypsy 

at  heart). 
Romi,  wife. 
Rommanis,  in  Gypsy,  also  wife 

(G.  B.). 

Rommany,  i.q.  Romany. 
Rovel  (3rd  sing,  oirovava),  he  weeps. 
Rup,  silver. 
Rye  (rdl),  gentleman. 

Sanpriel,  Sanspareil. 
Sap,  snake. 

Sapengro,  snake-  catcher. 
Sar  shan,  how  art  thou  ? 
Sas,  it  was,  were  it. 


Sastramescro,  worker  in  iron,  smith. 

Saulo  (MS.  sorlo],  morning  ;  early  (?) 

Sav6,  what  kind  of  a  man  ?  who  ? 

Scoppelp,  ninny. 

Se  (isi),  is,  are. 

Shan  (isun),  thou  art. 

Sherengro  (fr.  sherd,  the  head),  head 

man,  chief. 
Shorn  (/sow),  I  am. 
Shoon  (shunava),  to  hear,  to  listen. 
Shukaro  (tchokano),  hammer. 


Shunella  (shunela,  jrd  sing,  of  shu- 

nava),  is  listening. 
Si  (isi)t  is,  are  ;  si  men,  are  we  ;  si 

mensar  (mensa),  is  or  are  with  us. 
Sinaba  (Sp.  G.),  was. 
Sore  (sure],  pi.  all,  all  who. 
Sos,  who. 
Sos  (is  as),  was. 
Sove  (sovava),  to  sleep. 
Swety  (pi.   of  Russ.  sviet),  people, 

folks. 
Synfye,  Cinthia   (Slav,  th  is  pron. 

Mi. 

Ta,  and. 

Tach6,  i,  true. 

Tan,  place,  tent. 

Tasaulor  (read  ta-sorlo),  to-morrow, 

Tatchend,  f,  modest,  chaste. 

Tatchipen,  truth. 

Tawnie,  f.  of 

Tawnd,  i  (tarno),  little,  short. 

Tove  (tovava),  to  wash. 

Trin,  three. 

Truppo  (trupo),  body. 

Tu,  thou. 

Tute  (tut),  thee,  to  thy. 


Vagescpe,  adj. 

Vassavie,  f.  of. 

Vassav6,  f,  vile. 

Villaminni  (Hung,  villam),  it  lightens. 

Wafodo,  i,  bad,  false. 

Wei    (corrupted     from     avella),    to 

come,  to  go. 
Welling,  coming. 
Wendror    (connected     with    andro, 

within  ?),  the  insides. 
Wesh  (vesh),  forest. 
Wust,  to  throw  (better  the  first  MS, 

form,  chiv). 

Yag,  fire. 
Ye,  the. 

Yeck  (yek),  one. 
Yov  (ov),  he. 

Zigeuner  (Ger.),  Gypsy. 
Zingaro  (It.),  Gypsy. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES. 

Abarbanel,  Leo  (Lavengro,  p.  282). — See  Note  /.  c. 

Ab  Gwilym  (Lavengro,  p.  114). — Barddoniaeth  Dafydd  ab  Gwilym.  O 
grynhoad  Owen  Jones,  a  William  Owen.  [The  Poetical  Works  of  David 
ap  Gwilym  (son  of  William),  edited  by  0.  J.  and  W.  O.].  Llundain,  1789. 
Sm.  8vo,  pp.  xliii,  548. 

Translations  into  English  Verse  from  the  Poems  of  Davyth  ap  Gwilym, 

a  Welsh  Bard  of  the  Fourteenth  Century.      [By  Arthur  J.   Johnes.j 
London,  1834.     i2mo,  pp.  xliv,  127. 

Albizzi,  Bart.  (Romany  Rye,  p.  20).— L'Alcora  des  Cordeliers,  tant  en  Latin 
qu'en  Fra^ois  :  C'est  a  dire,  la  mer  des  blasphemes  &  mensonges  de 
cest  idole  stigmatize,  qu'on  appelle  S.  Fran§ois,  recueilli  par  le  Docteur 
M.  Luther,  du  liure  des  Conformitez  de  ce  beau  S.  Francois,  imprime 
a  Milan  Tan  M.D.X.,  &  nouuellement  traduit.  A  Geneve,  Par  Conrad 
Badius.  M.D.LVI  (1556).  8vo,  pp.  311.— Bodl. 

Aneurin  (Lavengro,  p.  431). — Y  Gododin.  A  poem  on  the  Battle  of  Cat- 
traeth,  by  Aneurin,  a  Welsh  Bard  of  the  Sixth  Century.  With  an  English 
translation  by  J.  Williams  ab  Ithel.  Llandovery,  1852.  8vo,  pp.  x, 
204. 

Arbuthnot,  A.  (Romany  Rye,  pp.  24-26). — The  Life,  Adventures,  and  many 
and  great  Vicissitudes  of  Fortune  of  Simon,  Lord  Lovat,  the  Head  of  the 
Family  of  Erasers.  From  his  birth  at  Beaufort,  near  Inverness,  in  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland,  in  1668,  to  the  time  of  his  being  taken  by  Capt. 
Millar,  after  three  days  search,  in  a  hollow  tree,  on  the  coasts  of  Knoidart 
and  Arisaig.  By  the  Rev.  Archibald  Arbuthnot,  .  .  .  London,  1746. 
i2mo,  pp.  280  +  40. — Bodl. 

Bampfylde-Moore-Carew. — An  Apology  for  the  Life  of  Mr.  Bampfylde- 
Moore-Carew,  commonly  call'd  the  King  of  the  Beggars.  Being  an 
impartial  Account  of  his  Life,  from  his  leaving  Tiverton  School,  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  and  entering  into  a  Society  of  Gipsies,  to  the  present 
time ;  wherein  the  motives  of  his  conduct  will  be  explain'd,  and  the 
great  number  of  characters  and  shapes  he  has  appeared  in  thro'  Great 
Britain,  Ireland,  and  several  other  places  of  Europe,  be  related ;  with 
his  Travels  twice  thro'  great  part  of  America.  A  particular  account  of 
the  Origin,  Government,  Language,  Laws,  and  Customs  of  the  Gipsies  ; 
their  method  of  electing  their  king,  etc.  London,  1763.  i2mo,  pp. 
xxiv,  iv,  348.  Portrait. 

With  a  "  Cant  "  or  "  Flash  "  vocabulary  at  the  end,  improperly  called 
"  Gipsy  ". 

Barbarian  Cruelty  ;  or  an  Accurate  and  Impartial  Narrative  of  the  unpar- 
allel'd  sufferings  and  almost  incredible  hardships  of  the  British  Captives 
belonging  to  the  Inspector,  privateer,  Capt.  Richard  Veale,  Commander, 
during  their  slavery  under  the  arbitrary  and  despotic  government 
of  Muley  Abdallah,  Emperor  of  Fez  and  Morocco,  January,  1745-46, 

(393) 


394  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES. 


to  their  happy  ransom  and  deliverance  from  their   painful  capitivity. 
London,  1751.     I2mo.     Plates. 

Bayne,  A.  D. — A  Comprehensive  History  of  Norwich.  Norwich,  1869. 
8vo,  pp.  xxxviii,  738. 

Billy  Blind  (Lavengro,  p.  225). — Not  identified. 

Bligh,  Capt.  (Romany  Rye,  pp,  331,  335).— A  Narrative  of  the  Mutiny  on 
board  His  Majesty's  Ship  Bounty  ;  and  the  subsequent  voyage  of  part 
of  the  crew,  in  the  ship's  boat,  from  Tofoa,  one  of  the  Friendly  Islands, 
to  Timor,  a  Dutch  settlement  in  the  East  Indies.  Written  by  Lieu- 
tenant William  Bligh.  London,  1790.  410,  pp.  iv,  88.  Four  folded 
charts  and  maps. — Bodl. 

A   Description  of  Pitcairn's   Island   and   its   inhabitants.      With   an 

authentic  account  of  the  Mutiny  of  the  Ship  Bounty.      New  York, 
1845.     i2mo. 

Pitcairn :  the  Island,  the  People,  and  the  Pastor ;  with  a  short  account 

of  the  Mutiny  of  the  Bounty.     By  the  Rev.  T.  B.  Murray.     London, 
1853.     i2tno. 

Borde,  Andrew  (Romany  Rye,  p.  319).— The  fyrst  boke  of  the  Introduction 
of  Knowledge.  The  which  doth  teache  a  man  to  speake  parte  of  all 
maner  of  Languages,  and  to  knowe  the  vsage  and  fashion  of  al  maner 
of  cofitreys.  And  for  to  knowe  the  most  parte  of  all  maner  of  Coynes 
of  money,  ye  which  is  curraunt  in  euery  region.  Made  by  Andrew 
Borde,  of  Phisicke  Doctor.  Dedicated  to  the  right  Honorable  and 
gracio9  lady  Mary  doughter  of  our  souerayne  lord  Kyng  Henry  the 
eyght. 

(N  4).  Imprented  at  London  in  Lothbury  ouer  agaynste  Sainct  Mar- 
garytes  church  by  me  Wyllyam  Copland  (c.  1547).  410,  52  leaves  (A-N 
in  45).  Black  letter,  Plates.—  Bodl. 

Dedication  dated:  "Fro  Mout  pyler  [Montpelier],  the  .  iii.  daye  of 
Maye,  the  yere  of  our  Lorde.  M.CCCCC.xlii." 

Borrow  (Lavengro,  p.  456;  Romany  Rye,  p.  281). — Romantic  Ballads,  trans- 
lated from  the  Danish ;  and  Miscellaneous  Pieces ;  by  George  Borrow. 
Norwich :  S.  Wilkin,  1826.  8vo,  pp.  xi,  187. 

Among  the  146  subscribers'  names  given  at  the  end,  the  following  may 
be  recognised : — 


F(rancis)  Arden,  Esq.,  London, 

5  copies. 

J(ohn)  Bowring,  Esq.,  Hackney. 
Thomas  Campbell,  Esq. ,  London. 
T(orlough)  G.  O'Donnahoo, 

Esq.,  London,  5  copies. 
Dr.  (Lewis)  Evans. 


R(obert)  Hawkes,  Esq. 

B.  R.  Haydon,  Esq.,  London. 

Rev.  J.     (read  P.)  Kennedy,  Temple- 

more,  Tipperary. 
Mr.  R(oger)  Kerrison. 
W(illiam)  Rackham,  Esq. 
Mr.  J(ohn)  Turner,  London. 


Borrow  (L.,  pp.  151,  432). — Targum.    Or  Metrical  Translations  from  Thirty 

Languages    and    Dialects.      By    George    Borrow.      St.    Petersburg. 

Printed  by  Schulz  and  Beneze.     [June]  1835.     8vo,  pp.  viii,  106. 
The  Talisman.     From  the  Russian  of  Alexander  Pushkin.     With  other 

pieces.     St.  Petersburg.      Printed  by  Schulz   and   Beneze.     [August] 

1835.     8vo,  pp.  14. 
Bowrmg,  John  (Lavengro,  p.  146  ;  Romany  Rye,  p.  368). — Specimen  of  the 

Russian    Poets:    with  preliminary   remarks  and  biographical    notices. 

By  John  Bowring,  F.L.S.     London:   Whittaker,  1821.     izmo,  pp.  xxii, 

240. 

Published  December,  1820.     Second  vol.  in  1823. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES.  395 

Boxiana  (Lavengro,  pp.  166-69). — Fights  for  the  Championship,  and  cele- 
brated Prize  Battles,  from  the  days  of  Figg  and  Broughton  to  the  present 
time.  By  the  Editor  of  Bell's  Life  in  London.  London,  1855.  8vo, 
pp.  iv,  410.  See  Egan. 

Braithwaite,  Captain. — The  history  of  the  Revolutions  in  the  Empire  of 
Morocco,  upon  the  death  of  the  late  Emperor  Muley  Ishmael ;  being  a 
most  exact  Journal  of  what  happen'd  in  those  parts  in  the  last  and  part  of 
the  present  year.  With  observations  natural,  moral  and  political,  relating 
to  that  country  and  people.  Written  by  Captain  Braithwaite,  who 
accompany'd  John  Russell,  Esq.,  his  Majesty's  Consul  General  into  those 
parts,  etc.  London,  1829.  8vo,  pp.  viii,  381.  Map. — Bodl. 

Braithwaite,  J.  B.  (Lavengro,  pp.  93-96). — Memoirs  of  Joseph  John 
Gurney ;  with  selections  from  his  Journal  and  Correspondence.  Nor- 
wich, 1854.  2  vols.,  8vo. 

Brooke,  Miss  Charlotte  (Romany  Rye,  pp.  278-82).— Reliques  of  Irish 
Poetry :  consisting  of  heroic  poems,  odes,  elegies,  and  songs,  translated 
into  English  verse  :  with  notes  explanatory  and  historical ;  and  the  origi- 
nals in  the  Irish  character.  Dublin,  1789.  4to,  pp.  xxvi,  369. — Bodl. 
The  source  of  the  Fingalian  "  thumb  "  (p.  109),  "  Dermod  (David] 
Odeen  "  (Diarmad  Mac  O'Dhuivne,  p.  77),  "  Conan  the  Bald  "  (pp.  79, 
106),  "  Loughlin  "  (Lochlin,  p.  46). 

Budai  Ferencz  (Romany  Rye,  p.  233). — Magyar  Orszag  Polgari  Historia- 
jara  valo  Lexicon.  Nagy-Varad  (Gross- Wardein),  1804-5.  3  vols.,  8vo. 
— B.M. 

Carthew,  G.  A.  (Lavengro,  p.  15). — The  Town  We  Live  In.  A  Lecture  on 
the  Origin  and  History  of  East  Dereham.  London,  1857.  I2mo. 

Croix,  Francois  Petis  de  la  (Lavengro,  p.  55  ;  Romany  Rye,  p.  369). — The 
History  of  Genghiscan  the  Great,  first  Emperor  of  the  Ancient  Moguls 
and  Tartars,  his  Life,  Advancements,  and  Conquests,  Laws  of  the 
Ancient  Moguls  and  Tartars,  and  the  Geography  of  the  vast  countries  of 
Mogolistan,  Turquestan,  Capschae,  Yugurestan,  and  the  Eastern  and 
Western  Tartary  etc.  By  the  late  M.  Petis  de  la  Croix,  senior  Secretary 
and  Interpreter  to  the  King  in  the  Turkish  and  Arabick  Languages. 
London,  1722.  8vo.  Map. 

Day,  Thomas  (Lavengro,  p.  362). — History  of  Little  Jack.  London,  1788. 
— The  History  of  Sandford  and  Merton.  London,  1783-87-89. 
3  vols. — Bodl. 

Dictionary  of  National  Biography.  London,  1885-99,  vols.  59.  8vo. — 
Bodl. 

Duncan  Campbell  (Romany  Rye,  p.  352). — History  of  the  Life  and 
Adventures  of  Mr.  Duncan  Campbell,  a  gentleman  who,  though  deaf 
and  dumb,  writes  down  any  strangers'  name  at  first  sight,  with  their 
future  contingencies  of  fortune ;  now  living  in  Exeter  Court,  over 
against  the  Savoy  in  the  Strand.  [By  Daniel  Defoe].  London,  1720. 
8vo,  pp.  xix,  320.  Portrait  and  Plates. 

Edda  Saemundar  Hinns  Froda.  Edda  Rhythmica  seu  Antiquior,  vulgo 
Saemundina  dicta.  Hafnias,  sumptibus  Soc.  Arn.  Magn.,  1787,  1828. 
3  vols..  410. — Bodl. 

See  in  vol.  ii.  (1818) :  Qvida  Sigvrdar  Fafnisbana,  or,  The  Song  of 
Sigurd  the  Serpent-Slayer  (pp.  124-244),  including  the  Qvida  Brynhildar, 
or  Lay  of  Brynhild  (pp.  189-210). — Romany  Rye,  pp.  279,  281,  358. 

Egan,  Pierce. — Boxiana ;  or,  Sketches  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Pugilism, 
from  the  days  of  the  renowned  Broughton  and  Slack,  to  the  Champion- 


3g6  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES. 

ship  of  Cribb. — Boxiana ;  or,  Sketches  of  Modern  Pugilism  during  the 
Championship  of  Cribb,  to  Spring's  Challenge  to  all  England. — New 
Series  of  Boxiana :  being  the  only  original  and  Complete  Lives  of  the 
Boxers.  London,  1821-24-29.  5  vols.,  8vo. 

English  Rogue  (The)  described,  in  the  Life  of  Meriton  Latroon,  a  witty 
extravagant.  Being  a  compleat  history  of  the  most  eminent  cheats  of 
both  sexes.  London,  1665-80.  4  vols.,  8vo  (Reprint). — Bodl. 

Chap.  v.  of  vol.  i.,  pp.  38-53,  contains  a  vocabulary  of  English  cant ;  in 
it  are  the  Borrovian  words  pannam,  bread ;  harmanbeck,  constable  ; 
mumpers,  gentile  beggars  ;  ken,  house;  tip,  to  give;  Rome-vile,  London, 
and  the  verses  given  in  the  Zincali,  beginning : — 

"  Bing  out,  bien  morts,  and  toure  and  toure  ". 

Falconer,  Capt.  (Romany  Rye,  p.  352). — The  Voyages,  dangerous  Adven- 
tures and  imminent  escapes  of  Captain  Richard  Falconer  .  .  .  intermix'd 
with  the  Voyages  ...  of  T.  Randal.  London,  1720.  8vo. 

Fortiguerra,  Niccolo  (Romany  Rye,  p.  71).— Ricciardetto  di  Niccolo  Carter- 
omaco.  Parigi,  1738.  4to,  pp.  xxxvi,  4204-412.— Bodl. 

Index :  "  Despina,  principessa  di  Cafria,  figliuola  dello  Scricca  Impera- 
dore  ". 

Friar  Bacon  (Romany  Rye,  p.  157). — The  History  of  Frier  Bacon.  London, 
1683.  8vo,  11.  12.  Plates.— Bodl. 

The  Three  Famous  Conjurers,  Fryer  Bacon,  Bongey,  and  Vandermast. 

London  (168— ).     8vo,  11.  10.     Plates.— Bodl. 

The  History  of  Fryer  Bacon :  The  Second  Part :  Being  a  most  true 

and  exact  Relation  of  the  most  famous  and  merry  Exploits  of  that  worthy 
Gentleman  of  Renown,  and  deep  Professor  of  Astrology,  and  most 
expert  in  the  Magick  Art,  MILES  WAGNER;  Being  once  a  servant 
to  that  famous  Conjurer  Fryer  Bacon,  with  whom  he  learned  his  Art. 
As  also  how  he  met  with  Paccolet  upon  his  Wooden  Horse.  Lastly, 
how  he  by  his  Art  was  carried  amongst  the  Stars  in  a  fiery  Chariot, 
drawn  by  six  Dragons  :  And  how  he  did  eat  and  drink  with  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  World  in  the  Moon.  London  ( 1 68— ).  8vo,  11. 12.  Plates. — 
Bodl. 

The  Famous  Historic   of  Fryer  Bacon.      Containing  the  wonderfull 

things  that  he  did  in  his  life :  also  the  manner  of  his  death ;  with  the 
lives  and  deaths  of  the  two  Conjurers,  Bungye  and  Vandermast.  Printed 
at  London  .  .  .  (1615),  pp.  62. — In  vol.  i.  of  A  Collection  of  Early  Prose 
Romances.  Edited  by  William  J.  Thorns.  London :  Pickering,  1828. 
3  vols.,  8vo. — Bodl. 

Clyde,  John  (Lavcngro,  pp.  130-33). — The  Norfolk  Garland:  a  Collection 
of  the  superstitious  beliefs  and  practices,  proverbs,  curious  customs, 
ballads  and  songs,  of  the  people  of  Norfolk.  London  (1873).  £vo,  pp. 
iv,  405. 

Gorchestion  Beirdd  Cymru :  Neu  Flodau  Godidowgrwydd  A  wen.  O 
gasgliad  Rhys  Jones,  o'r  Tyddyn  Mawr.  [Beauties  of  the  Bards  of 
Wales;  or,  Flowers  of  Welsh  Poetry.  Collected  by  Rhys  Jones  of 
Great  Farms.}  Amwythig  (Shrewsbury],  1773.  410. — (Lavengro,  p. 

Haggart  (Lavengro,  pp.  51-55).— The  Life  of  David  Haggart,  alias  John 
Wilson,  alias  John  Morison,  alias  Barney  McCoul,  alias  John  McColgan, 
alias  Daniel  O'Brian,  alias  the  Switcher.  Written  by  himself,  while 
under  sentence  of  death.  Edinburgh,  1821.  i2mo,  pp.  viii,  173.  Port. 
"  Cant "  vocabulary  at  the  end, 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OP  EDITOR'S  SOURCES.  39? 

Haydon,  B.  R.  (Lavengro,  p.  223). — Life  of  Benjamin  R.  Haydon,  Historical 
Painter,  from  his  Autobiography  and  Journals.  By  Tom  Taylor. 
London,  1853.  3  vols.,  8vo. 

Hickathrift  (Lavengro,  pp.  50  &  63). — The  Pleasant  History  of  Thomas  Hicka- 
thrift.  [Plate.]  Printed  for  William  Thackeray,  and  Thomas  Pass- 
more  [at  the  Angel  in  Duck-lane,  1688].  i6mo,  11.  2,  pp.  18,  1.  i. 
Plates.— Bodl. 

The  History  of  Thomas  Hickathrift.  Part  the  First  [Second]. 

Printed  and  sold  in  Aldermary  Church  Yard,  Bow  Lane,  London  (c. 
1780).  i2mo,  pp.  24  +  24.  Plates.—  Bodl. 

The  History  of  Tom  Hickathrift.  Part  the  First  [Second].  Man- 
chester :  Printed  by  A.  Swindells,  8  Hanging-bridge.  I2mo,  pp.  16 
+  15  (1825  ?).  Plates.— Bodl. 

Iriarte,  Tomas  de  (Romany  Rye,  p.  354). — Coleccion  de  Obras  en  Verso  y 
Prosa  de  D.  Tomas  de  Yriarte.  Madrid,  1787.  6  vols.,  8vo. 

LA  VIBORA  Y  LA  SANGUIJUELA. 

"  Aunque  las  dos  picamos  "  (dixo  un  dia 
La  Vibora  £  la  simple  Sanguijuela), 
"  De  tu  boca  reparo  que  se  fia 
El  hombre,  y  de  la  mia  se  rezela." 

La  Chupona  responde  :  "  Ya,  querida  ; 
Mas  no  picamos  de  la  misma  suerte  : 
Yo,  si  pico  £  un  enfermo,  le  doy  vida ; 
Tu,  picando  al  mas  sano,  le  das  muerte  ". 

Vaya  ahora  de  paso  una  advertencia  : 
Muchos  censuran,  si,  Lector  benigno  ; 
Pero  a  fe  que  hay  bastante  diferencia 
De  un  Censor  util  a  un  Censor  maligno. 

— Fdbula,  Ixvii.,  vol.  i. 

Keysler,  J.  G.  (Lavengro,  p.  136;  Romany  Rye,  p.  23). — Travels  through 
Germany,  Bohemia,  Hungary,  Switzerland,  Italy  and  Lorrain.  Trans- 
lated from  the  German.  London,  1756-57.  4  vols.,  410.  Second  ed. — 
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Kisempe  Viser  (Lavengro,  pp.  141-45).— Ed.  by  Anders  Sorenson  Vedel. 
Kjobenhavn,  1591.  8vo. — "G.  Borrow" 

Danmarks  Gamle  Folkeviser,  udgivne  af  Svend  Grundtvig.     Kjoben- 
havn, 1853-56-62.     3  vols.,  sm.  fol. 
Supersedes  the  old  collections  by  Vedel,  Syv,  Nyerup,  Rahbeck,  etc. 

Lesage  (Lavengro,  p.  201). — Histoire  de  Gil  Bias  de  Santillane.  Paris, 
1815.  4  vols.,  i6mo. 

"Je  1'invitai  a  souper  avec  moi.     'Ah!  tres  volontiers,'  s'ecria-t-il." — 
Vol.  i.,  ch.  II. 

[Leti,  Gregorio]  (Romany  Rye,  p.  6). — II  Nipotismo  di  Roma,  o  vero, 
Relatione  delle  Ragioni  che  muouono  i  Pontefici  all'  Aggrandimento  de' 
Nipoti.  (s./.),  1667.  2  vols.  in  i,  i2mo  (pp.  932). 

II  Nipotismo  di  Roma:  or,  the  History  of  the  Popes  Nephews.     From 

the  time  of  Sixtus   IV.   anno    1471.    to   the  death  of  the  late  Pope. 


398  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES. 

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1673.     i2mo  (pp.  343).     Portrait  of  Alexander  VII. 
This  was  the  edition  used  by  Mr.  Borrow,  and  purchased  by  me. 

Lhuyd,  Edw.  (Lavengro,  p.  68). — Archaeologia  Britannica,  giving  some 
account  additional  to  what  has  been  hitherto  publish'd,  of  the  languages, 
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Lilly,  William  (Lavengro,  pp.  38-39).— A  Shorte  Introdvction  of  Grammar, 
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Latine  tongue.  An.  Domini  1549. — Brevissima  Institutio  seu  Ratio 
Grammatices  cognoscendse,  ad  omnium  puerorum  vtilitatem  praescripta, 
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Londini,  anno  1549.  [End.]  "Londini:  apud  Reginaldum  Wolfium 
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A  Short  Introduction  of  Grammar,  generally  to  be  used :    Compiled 

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Grammatices  cognoscendae,  ad  omnium  puerorum  utilitatem  /^rscripta  ; 
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This  last  edition  of  1811  would  be  the  one  the  lad  Borrow  used  at  East 
Dereham  in  the  autumn  of  that  year. 

Loyola,  Ignatius  (Romany  Rye,  p.  351). — Vita  Ignatii  Loiolae.    Antverpiae, 
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Mallet. — Northern  Antiquities;  or,  an  historical  account  of  the  manners, 
customs,  religion  and  laws,  language  and  literature  of  the  ancient 
Scandinavians.  London:  Bonn,  1859.  8vo,  pp.  578. 

Matchett— The  Norfolk  and  Norwich  Remembrancer  and  Vade-Mecum; 
containing  ...  a  Chronological  Retrospect  of  the  most  Remarkable 
Events  which  have  occurred  in  Norfolk  and  Norwich  from  1701  to  1821 
inclusive.  Norwich :  Matchett  &  Stevenson,  1822.  Sm.  8vo,  pp. 
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Moll  Flanders  (Lavengro,  p.  194). — The  Fortunes  and  Misfortunes  of 
the  famous  Moll  Flanders,  &c.,  who  was  born  in  Newgate,  and  during 
a  Life  of  continu'd  Variety  for  Threescore  Years,  besides  her  Childhood, 
was  Twelve  Year  a  W  (.  .  .),  five  times  a  Wife  (.  .  .),  Twelve  Year  a 
Thief,  Eight  Year  a  Transported  Felon  in  Virginia,  at  last  grew  Rich, 
liv'd  Honest,  and  died  a  Penitent.  Written  [by  Daniel  Defoe]  from 
her  own  Memorandums  [in  1683].  London,  1721.  8vo,  pp.  vi,  366. 
First  ed. 
This  is  Borrow's  "  Blessed  Mary  Flanders"  1 

Monthly  Magazine,  The ;  or,  British  Register.  London  :  for  Sir  Richard 
Phillips  &  Co.,  1822-26,  vols.  liv.-lx.  8vo. — (Lavengro,  pp.  186-87.) 

Murray  (Lavengro,  p.  139). — See  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Minstrelsy  of  the 
Scottish  Border,  Kelso,  1802.  2  vols.,  8vo. — "  The  Song  of  the  Outlaw 
Murray"  (vol.  i.,  pp.  5  and  ff.). 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES.  399 


Muses'  Library  (Romany  Rye,  p.  318). — Historical  and  Poetical  Medley; 
or,  Muses'  Library,  being  a  choice  and  faithful  Collection  of  the  best 
English  Poetry  from  the  times  of  Edward  the  Confessor  to  the  reign  of 
King  James  ist,  with  the  lives  and  characters  of  the  known  writers,  etc. 
London,  1738.  8vo. — Bodl. 

(Newgate). — The  New  Newgate  Calendar ;  or,  Modern  Criminal  Chrono- 
logy, comprehending  the  most  remarkable  cases  between  1796  and 
1826.  London:  Robins  &  Co.,  1826.  3  vols.,  8vo.  Portrait. 

The  Chronicles   of  Crime ;   or,    The    New    Newgate   Calendar.      [By 

Camden  Pelham.]     London,  1841.     2  vols.,  8vo  (pp.  1228).     Plates. 

Newgate  Lives  and  Trials  (Lavengro,   p.   204). — Celebrated  Trials  and 
Remarkable  Cases  of  Criminal  Jurisprudence,  from  the  earliest  records  to 
the  year  1825.     London:  Knight  &  Lacey,  1825.     6  vols.,  8vo.  Plates. 
Compiled  and  edited  by  Geo.  Borrow. 

Olaus  Magnus. — De  Gentibus  Septentrionalibus  Historia.  Ambergae,  1599. 
iSmo. — Taylor  Inst. 

Olaus  Wormius. — (Runer)  Sive  Danica  Literatura  Antiquissima  vulgo 
Gothica  dicta.  Luci  reddita  opera  Olai  Wormii,  D.  M.  Hafniae,  anno 
M.DC.XXXVI.  4to. 

Literatura  Runica.     Hafniae,  1651.     4to. 

O'Reilly,  Edward. — A  Chronological  Account  of  nearly  four  hundred  Irish 
writers,  down  to  1750,  with  catalogue  of  their  works.  Dublin,  1820. 
4to. — "G.  Borrow" 

Owlenglass  (Lavengro,  p.  225). — Von  Vlenspiegel  eins  bauren  sun  des  lands 
Braunschweick  /  wie  er  sein  leben  volbracht  hat  /  gar  mit  seltzamen 
sachen. — Gedruckt  zu  Erffurdt  durch  Melcher  Sachssen  ynn  der  Archen 
Noe.  M.D.XXXiij  (1533).  4to.  A-V  in  4s  &  X  3.  Plates.—  Bodl. 

Wunderliche    und    seltsame     Historic    Tillen     Eulenspiegels,    eines 

Bauern  Sohn,  aus  dem  Lande  zu  Braunschweig  gebiirtig.  Welche  aus 
Niedersachsischer  Sprache  ins  Hochdeutsche  iibersetzt,  und  sehr 
kurzweilig  zu  lesen.  Aus  verlangen  sehr  vieler  guten  Freunde  aufs  neue 
wieder  aufgelegt. — Gedruckt  in  diesem  Jahre.  Frankfurth  a.  d.  O., 
bei  Trowitzsch  und  Sohn.  (S.^4.).  A-K  in  8s.  8vo.  Plates. — Sorrow's 
copy. 

The  German   Rogue ;    or,    the   Life   and    Merry   Adventures,    Cheats, 

Stratagems,  and  Contrivances  of  Tiel  Eulespiegle.  Made  English  from 
the  High-Dutch.  London,  1720.  8vo,  11.  2,  pp.  in. — Bodl. 

Parny  (Romany  Rye,  pp.  344,  357). — Guerre  des  Dieux,  anciens  et  modernes : 
poeme  en  dix  chants.  Seconde  edition.  Paris:  Didot,  an  vii  (1798). 
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Patten,  R. — The  History  of  the  late  Rebellion,  with  Original  Papers  and 
Characters  of  the  principal  Noblemen  and  Gentlemen  concern'd  in  it. 
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edition,  with  large  additions.  London,  1717.  8vo. — Bodl. 

Phillips,  Sir  Richard  (Lavengro,  p.  205). — The  Proximate  Causes  of 
Material  Phenomena,  and  the  true  principles  of  universal  causation 
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Erscheinungen  des  Universums.  Von  Sir  Richard  Philipps  (sic).  Nach 
dem  Englischen  bearbeitet  von  General  v.  Theobald  und  Prof.  Dr. 
Lebret.  Stuttgart,  1826.  8vo,  pp.  xxxii,  429. 

Four   Dialogues    between   an   Oxford    Tutor    and   a   Disciple   of  the 

Common-sense  Philosophy,  relative  to  the  proximate  causes  of  material 
phenomena.  London,  1824.  8vo. — Bodl. 


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See  Lavengro:  "Oxford"  principles  (pp.  igo,  216),  theory  (p.  215), 

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Pocahontas.      By    Edward    Eggleston    and    Lillie    Eggleston    Seelye. 

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American   Statesmen.      John   Randolph.      By  Henry  Adams.      Bos- 
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i8mo.     "  George  Borrow  ejus  liber,  1821." — (Lavengru,  pp.  151,  160.) 
Pulci  (Lavengro,  p.  497 ;  Romany  Rye,  pp.  6g,  316). — Morgante  Maggiore  di 

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3  vols.,  i6mo. 
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1815.     //.  Regimental  Order  Book,  1812-15.     2  vols.,  fol.—  Household 

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illustravit.  Sorae,  1644-45.  2  vols.,  fol.  Plates. — "  G.  H.  Borrow." 

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the  most  notorious  Highwaymen,  Footpads,  Shoplifts,  and  Cheats,  of 
both  sexes,  about  London  and  Great  Britain,  for  above  an  hundred 
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Snorro  Sturleson  (Lavengro,  pp.  12,  46). — Heims  Kringla  /  eller  Snorre 
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holmiae,  i6g7.  2  vols.,  fol. — Bodl. 

Snorre  Sturlesons  Norske  Kongers  Sagaer.     Oversatte  [paa   Danske] 

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"Bui  hin  Digri,"  part  i,  p.  138. 


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Snorro  Sturleston. — Snorre  Sturles<f>ns  Norske  Kongers  Chronica.    Vdsat 
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pp.  858,  11.  ii. 
" Bui  hin  Digri,"  p.  136. 

"Torstein  Midlang  hug  til  Boo  tvert  ofver  Ansictet  /  oc  hug  Mund- 
stycket  bort  med  all  Hagen.  Boo  sagde  /  ugierne  skulle  de  Danske 
Moer  nu  kysse  mig  /  om  jeg  kommer  nogen  tid  hiem  igien  /  og  hand  hug 
til  Torstein  igien  /  uden  paa  siden  /  og  hug  hannem  i  to  stycker.  Da 
kom  Sigmund  Brestes^n  /  en  Faeroisk  Mand  /  oc  hug  baade  Haender  aff 
Boo  i  Handledit  /  saa  at  de  fulde  met  Sverdet  ned  paa  Skibet.  Boo 
stack  Armstumpene  i  baandene  paa  to  kister  /  som  stode  ved  Borde  / 
fulde  aff  Guld  oc  Solff  /  som  hand  rofvit  havde  /  oc  raabte  hojt  /  '  For 
horde  /  for  horde  /  alle  Bois  Tienere '  /  oc  hand  storte  sig  ofver  borde 
met  Kisterne.  Der  efter  sprunge  mange  aff  hans  mend  for  borde  /  oc 
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horrendam  incidit  desperationem,  HISTORIA,  a  quatuor  summis  uiris, 
summa  fide  conscripta  :  cum  clariss.  uirorum  Praefationibus,  Caelij 
S(ecundi)  C(urionis),  &  lo.  Caluini,  &  Petri  Pauli  Vergerij  APOLOGIA,  in 
quibus  multa  hoc  tempore  scitu  digna  grauissime  tractantur.  Accessit 
quoq;  Martini  Borrhai,  de  usu,  quem  Spierae  turn  exemplum,  turn 
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A  Memoir  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  the  late  William  Taylor  of 

Norwich,  containing  his  correspondence  with  Robert  Sou  they.     Com- 
piled and  edited  by  J.  W.  Robberds.     London,  1843.     2  vols.,  8vo. 
"  With  the  Author's  Compliments  to  George  Borrow,  Esq." 

Thurtell,  John  (Lavengro,  pp.  157-8, 171 ;  Romany  Rye,pp,  268-71). — "Obser- 
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Prayer,  and  the  Condemned  Sermon,  that  was  preached  before  the  un- 
happy Culprits ;  also,  full  particulars  of  the  Execution.  Embellished 
with  six  engraved  views,  taken  expressly  for  this  edition  by  Mr.  Calvert. 
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Pierce  Egan's  Account  of  the  Trial  of  John  Thurtell  and  Joseph  Hunt; 

with  an  Appendix,  disclosing  some  extraordinary  facts,  exclusively  in 
the  possession  of  the  Editor,  with  Portraits,  and  many  other  illustrative 
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The  Fatal  Effects  of  Gambling  exemplified  in  the  Murder  of  Wm. 

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Till  Eulenspiegel  (Lavengro,  p.  225).— See  Owlenglass. 
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Mr.  Borrow's  "  Volundr  "  or  "  Velint ". — Lavengro,  p.  444. 
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several    places   adjacent.      London,    1820.      Large    8vo,    pp.   vi,    119. 

Plates  and  Map. 

Wells,  T.  S.  (Lavengro,  p.  169). — The  Norwich  Minstrel ;  containing  seve- 
ral hundred  of  the  most  admired  and  approved  Songs,  interspersed  with 

select   and   original    Poetry.      Compiled   by   J.    S.   Wells.      Norwich, 

1831.     I2mo,  pp.  iv,  251. 
White,  Wm. — History,  Gazetteer,  and  Directory  of  Norfolk,  and  the  City 

and  County  of  the  City  of  Norwich.     Sheffield,  1854.     8vo,  pp.  881. 
History,  Gazetteer,  and  Directory  of  Suffolk,   etc.     Sheffield,    1844. 

8vo,  pp.  756. 

Ed.  1855.     8vo,  pp.  824. 

Wight   Wallace   (Lavengro,   p.   63). — The  Life  and   Acts  of   the   most 

famous  and  valiant  Champion,  Syr  William  Wallace,  Knight  of  Ellerslie  : 

Maintainer  of  ye  Liberty  of  Schottland.     [Written  by  Blind  Harry  in 

the  year  1361.]     Printed  at  Edinburgh  by  Andrew  Hart,  1620.     i6mo, 

pp.  341,  11.  2.     Black  Letter.— Bodl. 
P.  341,  after  FINIS  : — 

"  Thus  endeth  William  Wallace  wight, 
Behinde  him  left  not  such  a  Knight 
Of  worthinesse  and  deed  of  hand  ; 
From  thraldom  thrice  he  fred  this  land  ". 

The  Life  and  Acts  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  of  Ellerslie.     By  Henry 

the   Minstrel.     (Published  from   a  MS.   of  1488  with   Notes  by   Dr. 
Jamieson.)     Edinburgh,  1820.    410,  pp.  xx,  444.— Bodl. 

This  rhyrnecj  "  Story-book  of  Wiqht  Wallace  "  is  in  twelve  parts  or 
books. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  EDITOR'S  SOURCES.  403 


Wilkina  Saga. — Sagan  om  Didrik  af  Bern.      Efter  Svenska  Handskrif- 
ter  utgifven  af  Gunnar  Olof  Hylten-Cavallius.     Vol.  v.  af  Samlingar 
utgifna  af  Svenska  Fornskrift-Sdllskapet.     Stockholm,  1850.     8vo,  pp. 
xlv,  487.— Bodl. 
Stories  of  Sigurd  (Siegfrid),  Gunnar  (Gunther),  Brynhilda  (Brunhilt). 

Worm,  J. — Fors</>g  til  et  Lexicon  over  Danske,  Norske,  og  Islandske 
Lzerde  Maend.  Helsingoer,  1771-84.  3  vols.,  8vo. — "G.  Borrow.'1 

Wynn,  Ellis  (Lavengro,  pp.  404-5). — Gweledigaethau  y  Bardd  Cwsg :  yn 
Cynnws  I.  Gweledigaeth  Cwrs  y  Byd.  II.  Gweledigaeth  Angai.  III. 
Gweledigaeth  Uffern.  Gan  Ellis  Wynn.  Caerfyrddin,  1811.  i2mo, 

PP-  77- 

The  Sleeping  Bard ;  or  Visions  of  the  World,  Death,  and  Hell.     By 

Elis  Wyn.     Translated  from  the  Cambrian  British  by  George  Borrow. 
London,  1860.     8vo,  pp.  vii,  128. 

W.  I.  KNAPP. 

HIGH  ST.,  OXFORD,    . 
November,  1899. 


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